


Fields of Gold

by Chaouen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Castles and medieval villages, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Food Porn, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Jeyne Poole/Beric Dondarrion, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Spanish SanSan, Unresolved Romantic Tension, cool bikes, invernalia, mentions of Joffrey/Sansa, red wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 79,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaouen/pseuds/Chaouen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sansa Stark returns to her hometown six years after she ran away from there without looking back, she still isn't aware of how confronting her past, and especially a certain man, is going to turn her safe world in the city upside down.</p><p>Sandor Clegane has lived a quiet and boring life at Invernalia for the past years, until Sansa Stark comes back to the village to sell her parents' house. Does he really need her into his life again or, deep inside, has he been waiting for this to happen for the last six years? </p><p>Misunderstandings and Sandor’s big mouth abound as they learn to work together and they know each other again.</p><p>A light-hearted, feel-good modern AU. ** COMPLETE **</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **AUTHOR NOTES:**
> 
>   * Modern AU set in one of the many medieval villages that fill the plains Castile (Spain). Sansa and Sandor are aged up and this is not Westeros, so they’ll probably be OOC but hey, we are here just for the fun! Though our protagonists are chased by their pasts, I like to think that this is a _feel good fic_ , so it’ll also be full of friendship, learning, romance, feelings and fluff, all set in the hauntingly beautiful wheat and sunflower fields that cover the landscape of the land where I grew up.
> 

>   * Sansa is 24 and Sandor is 35.
> 

>   * Invernalia is the Spanish name for Winterfell
> 

>   * This will be a slow burn between two people who meet again after many years and have to know each other again, so please be patient!
> 

>   * This story beta-edited by my friend  **KITAMERE** <3
> 

>   * [Here you have visuals, headcanons and inspiration about the story](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/122113193844/fields-of-gold-modern-au-sansan-fanfic-when)
>   * [Playlist](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/162830330949/these-are-the-songs-that-have-inspired-this-story)
> 
>   * [Booktrailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgojIXfazWQ)
> 

>   * Comments and kudos are very much appreciated and make my day, so don't be shy! :D
> 

> 
>  
> 
> * * * * * * *
> 
> _See the west wind move like a lover so_  
>  _Upon the fields of barley_  
>  _Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth_  
>  _Among the fields of gold_  
>  _I never made promises lightly_  
>  _And there have been some that I've broken_  
>  _But I swear in the days still left_  
>  _We'll walk in fields of gold_  
>  _We'll walk in fields of gold_
> 
> [ Fields of gold, Sting ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLVq0IAzh1A)

 

** **

 

**PROLOGUE**

“FOR SALE”

The big sign is clearly visible from afar, hanging lazily from one of the balconies on the façade of the ancient Stark House, the one next to the big stone shield with the family sigil.  Sandor stopped the engine of his old van at a safe distance a few minutes ago. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off the white and red letters of the sign since he entered the street that leads to the Main Square, nor off the white A3 Audi parked just in front of the heavy wooden main door.  He knows no one from the village owns a car like that; and even if that were the case, no one would dare to park it right _there_. He’d like to believe it belongs to some of the tourists who usually come on the weekends, guidebook in hand, to visit the medieval village or to climb to the castle, looking for a place to breathe fresh air and relax far from the noisy city - if it wasn’t a Monday. And there is also that damned sign already hanging on that rail _in_ the house. 

He realizes it’s been at least four years since the last time someone opened that door, the day of the funeral of Ned and Catelyn - the last time someone of the Stark family was ever seen in Invernalia. The stately mansion has been closed since then, gathering dust and oblivion, its façade a symbol of other times, of the silence of a village about what happened there right in under their noses.  However, that was a lifetime ago, and people have forgotten. They went on with their lives of lies and routines without looking back, without a single question - the Stark’s names pronounced in whispers in case anyone dares to mention any of them. Sandor hasn’t forgotten. How could he when certain incidents - a _certain_ _person_ \- still resist leaving his mind, making him regret each one of the choices he made back then? He has often wondered if time and hard work would help him to have some peace, although, as he finally takes his eyes off the wheel and lifts his gaze to the window again, he realizes that the answer is _no_.  He might forget at some point, but that time still isn’t now. It’s been four years since something noteworthy happened in that bloody village suspended in the midst of time - ancient history holding onto modern times with its stone family houses, its stone pavement, its twelfth-century stone church and its ruined stone castle watching all over them.  Four years for them, for the others.  Because for him it’s been almost six since the last time he waited under that same window in this same van - it was new back then - for her to open that door, rain drumming its nightmarish rhythm on the van’s roof in a land where a drop of water hardly ever falls.  He waited then like he is now, for hours, staring up at that bloody balcony like an idiot, waiting for some kind of stupid miracle that never happened, in what was probably the biggest act of foolishness of his life. In the end, he started the engine, stepped on the accelerator and left Invernalia without looking back. When he finally had to return many months later she was no longer there, and he is still wondering if that was for good or not.

It’s the second week of September; an incredible hot summer is about to end and wheat harvest time is coming. The news of the Stark House for sale will soon be the talk among the gossipy neighbors. _Well, at least they’ll finally have something new to talk about,_ Sandor snorts. Something is going to change, he can feel it in his bones, though he doesn’t still knows if he wants it, if he even needs it or if he has been waiting for it for six endless empty years.

He starts the car again and speeds off, the noisy engine breaking the usual calm of the village in the mornings. When he passes in front of the main door of the house, it seems as if the wolf sigil of the Starks is mocking him from its privileged position on the facade, its jaw fiercely open, fighting an unknown danger - uncaring to how Sandor’s old wounds are slowly opening again.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

**SUNDAY**

_OK_ _Sansa, calm down, you can do this._

The never ending one-way road spreads in front of her for kilometers and kilometers until it disappears into the horizon. It’s a long ride from the city and she is blaming herself for not leaving before; now she is going to arrive after sunset and she doesn’t like driving at night. Endless fields of wheat and sunflowers accompany her at both sides of the road, bathing the landscape with their beautiful golden colors. She still remembers them, the fields her father loved so much, how their shades change depending on the season, never losing its magic, as if they were a dreamlike postcard taken from a book from other time. That’s her land too, though something inside her rebels against the feeling and screams to her that this is _wrong_ , that she should turn around and keep things as they have been for the last six years. _Damn you Robb, I still don’t know how I let you to convince me about this…_ She recalls the day her brother called her to talk with her about selling their parents’ old house at Invernalia. With the little ones about to begin studying at the University, Robb and Jon working abroad and Arya traveling around the world with only the company of her backpack and that stubborn boyfriend of hers, it seemed obvious for all of them that it had to be Sansa who would be in charge of the paperwork and sign the contract of sale. She needs the money too, to start an office on her own, but returning to Invernalia to get it wasn’t part of her plans.

A week. That’s how long the expensive state agency she has contracted had said it’ll take them to prepare all the documents and send an appraiser to inspect the house so they can know its true estate and put a fair price to it. They’ll also send one of their salespeople to the village and she’ll just need to show him the place. Its charm and the interesting commission the agency gets will do the rest. Though it seems easy, she is terrified by the idea of returning to her hometown and the chance to meet someone who is part of her past, a past that has been so hard to bury. _There’s no need to meet anyone; you’ll show the house, sign the papers and work and read for the rest of the day. No one will know you’re around._ No one but Jeyne; she is one of the few happy memories Sansa still has about the place that doesn’t involve her family and she does want to see her again. They were best friends since they were children and as Sansa feels bad for not having talked with her in years. She contacted Jeyne some days ago telling her about her visit. Her old friend was excited to meet her again and her enthusiasm encouraged Sansa to finally do the trip. They agreed to have lunch the day after her arrival, with the promise of not telling anyone she was there. Sansa wonders how Jeyne would have changed. Well, she has changed too, she has a whole new life now, built little by little against fears and bad memories, and this new person she has become doesn’t look at all like the girl who fled Invernalia six years ago. Or so she likes to tell herself.

The sun is starting to set, dyeing the otherwise bright blue sky in soft reddish shades. Sansa feels so privileged to be able to enjoy this beautiful moment on her own, alone on that road, far from a city where it’s almost impossible to watch something like this properly… The sunset reminds her it’s going to be dark soon, so she checks her phone again for the address of the place in which she’s staying for the next days. Sansa would have preferred it to be further from the town, but this _Bed & Breakfast_ seems to be the only lodging for several kilometers around. She had written to the owner, a woman called Brienne, asking for a vacant room for this week and she had kindly told her that the place would be empty until the weekend so she’d have the whole place to herself. That, along with the great reviews she had read on the web about her establishment, were what finally inspired her to book a room.

Sansa sighs and takes a deep breath again in an attempt to regain her courage. _It’s just a week, not one more day, and then I’ll be free of this place again._

To entertain herself she turns on the CD player, allowing the warm voice of Diana Krall and the notes of her piano fill the air and soothe her as only Diana is able to do. Sansa follows the rhythm of the song tapping the wheel with her fingers and humming softy; _All or nothing at all, Half a love never appealed to me, If your heart never could yield to me, Then I'd rather have nothing at all…_

 _Thanks friend, you never fail me_ , she thinks as she watches the beautiful landscape that stretches as far as the eye can see; the beat of the piano and the distant drum creating the perfect soundtrack to drive through the golden fields that flank the road that leads her to six years back in her life. She grins unintentionally, enraptured by the magic of the moment. _And if I fell under the spell of your call, I would be caught in the undertow, So you see I've got to say no, All or nothing at all_ …

\-----

It’s almost 11 pm and completely dark when she arrives at her destination; a beautiful two floor house with its front covered in stone and a wooden roof that reminds her of the tales her old Nan told them when they were children. A place full of history and out of time - as she knows is the rest of the village - with a small sign with the name of the place hanging over the front door. She parks in front of the house and while she is taking her luggage out of the trunk, the door opens showing a tall silhouette shaped against the door frame.

“You must be _wolfgirl18_ ”, a woman says stepping towards her, “Did you find the place without problem?”

“Yes”, she replies, a bit embarrassed for not having used her real name but that silly nick when booking the room. “I’m Sansa,” she introduces herself, lifting her hand, “Sansa Stark.”

The woman stares at her, surprised for a moment before firmly shaking her hand, “I’m Brienne. Let me help you with that.”  And before Sansa can protest, the woman has grabbed her heavy suitcase and carries it to the house as easily as if it contains cotton balls instead of more clothes and shoes than she is going to need in a week. She watches her walking away, astonished, before following her inside the house. The place has a rustic style that fits in perfectly, giving the house a friendly ambience; stone walls, ancient wooden furniture, a fireplace surrounded by comfy couches, and strong and impressive wooden beams on the ceiling.

“You room is on the first floor. Since you told me in your mail that you’re going to stay for a week, I’ve prepared you the biggest one”, Brienne explains to her with a smile. She is taller than Sansa; in fact, she is taller and looks stronger than any woman Sansa has ever met. She has short hair of the same gold of the field she had been traveling through, big, big blue eyes that stare kindly at her and wrinkles around the eyes when she smiles. Sansa can’t help but smile back openly, because she realizes she already likes her.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”

She follows Brienne upstairs to the room that is going to be her home for the next days.  It’s a wide room decorated in the same style of the rest of the house; stone walls, wooden beams, a king-sized bed with a wooden headboard and matching nightstands, and a desk for work. She notices the vase with fresh orange and yellow gerberas over the table and walks to smell them.

“There is the bathroom,” Brienne explains pointing at a door next to the bed, “I’ve left you fresh towels. I guess you’d like to unpack as soon as possible so, I’ll leave you on your own. Do you want me to prepare you something for dinner? If Jaime hasn’t eaten it, I think there is still some pie left from the one I’ve cooked today.”

“I’d love it, I’m starving! I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

Once alone, Sansa undresses herself and hurries to open her suitcase and hang and place her clothes in the small wardrobe. Then she puts her laptop on the desk, checks the bathroom quickly and hurries down to a living room that already smells of cumin, roasted chicken, dates, and many other flavors she can’t yet decipher. Brienne is waiting for her with a big piece of pie that smells delicious even from afar; that smells like… her childhood.

“Oh, I love this pie!,” she says as she sits in front of her in one the tables next to the kitchen, “my mum prepared it all the time because my brothers devoured it!”

“Lady Catelyn gave me the recipe,” Brienne tells her quietly. “I met her when I came to live here five years ago. You had already left to study in the city,” she tries to explain as she notices the astonished look on Sansa’s face, “She talked so much about you and you also resemble her a lot, that’s how I guessed.  I’m sorry about what happened… I was very fond of her.”

“T-thank you...” Sansa thinks of her mother then, imagines her in her kitchen, teaching Brienne how to prepare one of the favorite meals of her children, how to bake the pastry and spice the chicken or how long it takes to bake in the oven.  She misses her and her father, so much… Sansa still remembers as if it was yesterday when Arya called her from Invernalia’s Hospital, telling her between sobs that their parents had been in a car accident on their way to the city. They were supposed to visit her, but never got to their destination, and somehow that’s something she hadn’t been able to forgive herself for.  It’s been already four years since they died, the same time they closed the family house - after Rickon and Bran and left the village to live with Robb and Jon, and Arya looked for a new job far from there. It seemed that without Ned and Cat, the Starks had no reason to stay any longer at Invernalia. The House was closed, and it had been forgotten for the past four years until just a month ago.   

“Now, try that pie or it’s going to get cold!” Brienne finally says.

Sansa takes a little bit with the fork and allows to her childhood memories fill her from the mouth to her heart. The pie is delicious; it’s her mother cooking on a Sunday morning and her father reading the newspaper, Arya running through the kitchen and Jeyne calling her to go out for a walk, and it’s Robb’s smile while he shoves a piece of it and says goodbye with his mouth full of pastry. It’s all the good memories she has from that place and at the same time, the reason why she didn’t want to return. She has already finished it among small talk with Brienne when suddenly the main door brush opens. The man that enters the place is blond too; tall and tanned, and so handsome that he looks like a model out the pages of a fashion magazine. He smiles charmingly at them and Sansa’s mouth hangs open, completely sold to his grin and his green eyes, “Hello ladies!”

Brienne smiles back as he approaches them and bends to kiss her on the lips.

“Jaime, this is Sansa, our new guest,” she finally introduces him.

“Sansa… Sansa _Stark_?”

“Yes…” she says a bit overwhelmed by that explosion of excitement and peeking from the corner of her eye at his right hand.

“Wow, this is really a surprise!” he replies chuckling before shaking her hand enthusiastically. “And, before you say anything, yeah, you’ll miss one of my hands,” he says shrugging and lifting the stump that is now his right arm before Sansa could even say a word, “I lost it during one of the harvests. Let’s talk no more about it. So, what has brought you back to Invernalia? We haven’t seen anyone of your family since… well, you know…”

“We’ve decided to sell the house. I’m here just for a few days, to do the paperwork.”

“Oh, then don’t be surprised if the entire village keeps talking about it, girl. Not many interesting things happen here lately,” he replies, winking an eye at her, “Well, I’m going to rest.  See you around, Sansa.”

“Good night Jaime,” Brienne replies while Sansa’s eyes follow him to one of the rooms on the ground floor. Sansa turns to look at her again, still amazed by the encounter, and she can’t help but blush. “I know, he has that effect on women,” she says giggling like a teenager, her big blue eyes sparkling dreamily and making plenty of wrinkles around her eyes, “We’ve been together for the last three years and he still leaves me dazzled when I see him coming back home, and I keep wondering if it’s a dream. Then I hear him snoring at night and realize it’s _too_ real!” and she laughs softly, making Sansa laugh too, because her smile is contagious and she thinks she knows what it is to be in love. “Anyway, Jaime is a tour guide of sorts in Invernalia. He prepares excursions for some of the people who stay at my Bed and Breakfast, takes them to do trekking by the countryside or to visit the monuments or his family castle. He can take you along on one of his routes if you want.”

 _Jaime Lannister. Of course he knows me._ Though Sansa hasn’t seen him in a million years, and even when she still lived in Invernalia he wasn’t around most of the time, she knows him too; and his family.

“Thank you but I already know the castle. I was there several times when I lived here. I knew his father and sister and… and his nephew.”

“Really? I didn’t have the chance to meet any of his family. He never talks much about them either.”

 _Lucky you,_ Sansa thinks. Nothing good ever came out of any Lannister and she hopes that at least Brienne has met the only one who seems a decent guy.

“I think I’m going to sleep too, it’s been a long day!” she finally decides after a big yawn escapes her lips.  “Thanks for the dinner.”

“Good night, Sansa.”

\-----

 

 **Randa** : hi sweetie.

 **Randa** : How did your ride to hell go?

 **Randa** :  Do you already miss your beautiful, smart and funny roommate? :P

 **Sansa** : Fine. Trying to not to die drowned by my memories. 

 **Sansa:** don’t miss u so far dummy

 **Randa** : hey, don’t die yet, I need someone helping me to pay the bills!

 **Sansa** : I’ll survive, don’t worry about the bills.

 **Randa** : fine, CALL ME whenever you need ok? I know this isn’t easy for you

 **Sansa** : Thank you Ms. Royce <3

 **Randa** : Night Ms. Stark

Sansa leaves the phone over the nightstand and buries herself under the duvet. She still has the taste of her mother’s meal in her mouth and several memories about the Lannisters spinning around a little corner of her mind. This journey has only just begun but she's regretting the decision to come back for the thousand times before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["All or nothing at all", by Diana Krall](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHyT8m6mSuI)   
>  [Picset 1](http://imagizer.imageshack.us/a/img909/4691/aKQkKk.jpg)   
>  [Picset 2](http://imageshack.com/a/img661/4670/ZJfE2z.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: More about Brienne's pie [here](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/121500589309/briennes-pie)


	3. Chapter 3

 

**MONDAY**

It’s 7 o’clock in the morning when the alarm on her phone wakes Sansa up, the same as every working day. _Fine, let’s do this_ , she decides, turning off the phone’s ringer and shoving aside the comfy duvet.  The floor is cold under her feet so she tiptoes quickly to the bathroom, throwing her pajamas off along the way.  She steps into the shower and turns the tap. When the water flows down from the showerhead it’s so freezing cold that she screams and curses until she manages to turn it off. She tries again, letting the water flow for a while to see if eventually gets hot, but it doesn’t.

_Great way to begin the day._

Finally she manages to wash herself despite the cold water, puts on some old jeans, a shirt, and a pair of sneakers, and rushes downstairs. The house is still quiet, and as it seems she is the first one awake, she decides to make some coffee. The aroma fills the kitchen and the living room.  As Sansa sips her first coffee of the day, she writes down a note for Brienne on a napkin:  “ _There isn’t any hot water in my shower, could you have it checked please? Thanks - Sansa.”_

It’s still warm despite being mid-September; a sunny day and a clear blue sky accompany her as she drives through Invernalia. The village is waking up little by little; with the smell of fresh bread and the sounds of the church’s bells singing the hour, people opening their businesses and cafés preparing their terraces outside. To Sansa, Invernalia is the medieval Main Square, witness of centuries of history and stories, with its porches with stone columns and wooden beams; the bench where she used to sit with Jeyne to talk about their last crush and the news-stand where they bought sweets and Cokes; it’s the stone pavement resounding under the wheels of her Audi while she enters the street where the Stark House is located. Sansa finally parks in front of the main door and, taking a deep breath, she summons the courage to step out of the car and open the trunk to grab the banner the state agency has told her to hang on the façade.

The door squeaks and groans when she pulls it open; six years of oblivion suddenly broken by such a simple gesture as turning a key. The foyer is dark and the air is thick, so Sansa leaves the door open until she finds the switch and turns on the light, illuminating the room and her memories. With so little light and most of the furniture covered with big white sheets, his family’s home seems a ghost house. Sansa wanders through the ground floor, inspecting the kitchen where her mum used to cook, stepping cautiously into the wide living room and opening some windows. She carefully pushes aside the sheet that covers the couch, raising a thin film of dust that shines in the morning daylight that filters through the glass and makes her sneeze. And suddenly there they are, all the happy memories of her home sitting on that old couch.  As she moves away more sheets and walks through the rooms she takes mental notes of everything that needs to be repair or fixed, and it’s a quite a bit: water taps, switches, some floor tiles, even several chippings on the walls - besides a thorough cleaning.

Finally she grabs the courage to climb upstairs to check the floor where their bedrooms were located. The first floor is a long corridor with doors at both sides: their parents’ is at the end of it, but before there are those of Bran and Rickon’s, Jon and Robb’s, and finally Arya’s and hers. Sansa notices her hand is trembling when she opens the door of her old bedroom. Despite having lived there two more years than her, Arya hadn’t changed anything of it; the twin beds still mirror each other at each side of the room, as do their desks, and in front of the door, between their beds, is the big window and balcony that faces the street. She steps into it and decides that it’s a place as good as any other to hang the sign that says “FOR SALE”. After the big banner is well secured over it, Sansa rests her arms on the rail and watches the street for a while. How many times had she daydreamed in that same balcony about her plans for the future or her sweet prince to come for her? She recalls all the happy moments she has there – the late talks with Arya, choosing a nice dress to go to a party, waking up with the birds chirping on the window, the smell of her mum’s pie climbing from the kitchen on a Sunday morning, Bran running through the hallway laughing after pulling some prank little Rickon – but it’s also the place where she curled up in the bed to cry because of Joffrey’s treatment, where she waited with a heavy heart, for a fair sentence that never came, and where six years ago, she prepared her suitcase to leave Invernalia, thinking of never coming back

 _Well, that’s it,_ she sighs with relief before coming inside the room again, _I’ve been here and I’ve survived. Let’s think of how to improve this place so the agency sells it quickly_.

Afterwards, Sansa checks the rest of the floor looking for damage and broken things and wanders for a little while longer around the house before leaving it to take a walk along the Square.  She sits on a terrace and asks for the second coffee of the day. It feels good to sit lazily there, letting the sunbeams warm her face and enjoying the glass of coffee – not a mug, as is usual in the city - and watching the place while hidden behind her sunglasses. It’s really a big piece of history, that home village of hers; a little town where time seems to have stopped for the last few centuries, that now tourists like to visit to take pictures and spend a quiet weekend. She’d love it too, if it wasn’t for the bad things that happened to her in those same streets and because most of the people she knew kept silent before them. Sansa knows it was fear that moved them – fear of the power of the Lannister family and especially of Tywin, who was the mayor of Invernalia back then - but that still doesn’t justify their behavior and so she hasn’t forgotten.

Finally she drives back to Brienne’s; it’s noon already and she wants to change her clothes and be on time to pick Jeyne up for lunch. There’s a van outside the bed and breakfast and she thinks that maybe she has a new guest.

“Hi girl!” Brienne welcomes her and smiles lifting her gaze from the book she’s reading in one of the couches of the living room.

“Hi! Did you read my note?” she asks, already longing for a warm shower.

“Yes, I’m so sorry for this morning, Sansa. I’ve already called for someone to fix it; he’s working on it right now.”

“Oh great! Thank you so much, I’m covered in dust and certainly need a shower.”

They small-talk about everything and nothing; she tells her about how she found the house and Brienne talks about the new reservations she has for the weekend.  It’s easy sharing these little things with her because the way she speaks makes Sansa feel comfortable, and she likes the way Brienne smiles and the little wrinkles around her eyes, and thinks that maybe they could become friends.

Sansa hears first the footsteps coming down the stairs from the first floor where her room is, then the deep rasping voice that accompanies them - _“It’s done Brienne, it was just a stuck pipe”_ \- and she doesn’t need to turn to know to whom it belongs, because she would recognize it anywhere, despite the fact that it has been six years since the last time she heard it. She feels her heart beating faster and her palms are sweating, and she has to curl them into fists when Brienne turns smiling toward the stairs so she doesn’t notice her nervousness.

“Great! Good job Sandor, thank you.  Please come, I want to introduce you to my new guest.”

 _Oh no_.

“Fuck,” she hears him muttering when she rises slowly from the couch and turns to face him and their eyes meet.

“Sandor, this is Sansa, she is staying here for this week,” Brienne introduces them cheerfully, “Sansa, this is Sandor. He helps us with the pipes, electricity works, repairs or whatever needs to be fixed. He also has the infamous privilege of being Jaime’s best friend. Or so they say.”

Brienne talks and smiles, but Sansa barely listens to her. Sandor Clegane stands in front of her; so tall, big and grave, towering even above Brienne and controlling the place solely with his presence. His dark hair is longer than she remembers, he has it tied in a low ponytail leaving his face clear, and though he now wears a thick beard, she notices the scars are still there, mastering the right side of his face. Apart from that, he hasn’t changed that much; sharp cheeks and thick brows above his always insightful gray eyes highlight his features, and he is still a bulking mass of muscles and broad shoulders under the tight white t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing. He keeps cleaning his hands slowly with a piece of cloth, a toolbox at his feet, and he hasn’t stopped staring at her for a single moment since Brienne’s words. Sansa finally looks elsewhere before she begins blushing and steps towards him.

“We already know each other,” she says smiling shyly and lifting her hand, “Nice to see you again, Sandor.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, shaking her hand; it feels rough and calloused, but warm and so big around hers that she feels silly for not being able to take her eyes from their hands.

“Thanks for fixing the shower,” she mutters, and it seems to her that he hesitates a little before letting her go. Sansa manages to walk to the stairs and climb to her room, closing the door behind her before letting go a breath she hasn’t realized she was holding. _Welcome past_ , is her last thought before running to the bathroom to take a shower.

\-----

Sansa has agreed to pick Jeyne up for lunch at Invernalia’s School, where she works as a math teacher. The school is located north of the village and, despite all the delay because of the shower and Sandor; she arrives in time to park the car in front of the building before a fuss of children leave, running towards a bunch of happy mothers waiting in their jeeps and minivans. Among all the commotion she finally makes out her friend waving a hand at her while she rushes to where Sansa is standing. Sansa notices these past years have suited her, because the sweet girl with whom she shared all her teenage secrets, is now a pretty woman. She wears a pair of comfy black trousers with a white blouse, a suitcase in her hand and her long brown hair tied nicely in a braid over her shoulder. Her beautiful brown eyes are now under a pair of rimmed glasses. Jeyne smiles widely at her and Sansa can’t help but return the smile gladly because she didn’t know it was going to feel so great to meet her again.

“Sansa Stark! Look at you, girl! Wow, you look amazing!” she says as soon as she arrives where she is and after giving her a warm bear hug. “The city has suited you, you’re even prettier than I remembered!”

“Stop Jeyne, you’re gonna make me blush!” she giggles foolishly at her, “You’re the pretty one here. And a teacher! Wow, I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, I’ve working at Invernalia’s School for two years now, but please, don’t talk about it. Now that I’ve got rid of these little lovely demons I try to teach numbers for a while, I need some girl talk. There are so many things I need you to tell me!”

They sit at a nice little restaurant Jeyne knows next to the school. There are only five tables and not all of them are occupied so they are quiet and Sansa prefers it that way. The menu is made with products of the land and looks tasty, so they chose a salad to share, one dish and a glass of red wine for each other.

“Well, tell me, what has brought you back to Invernalia?” Jeyne finally breaks the ice as she sips her glass.  “It’s a long time since I’ve even seen any of your brothers here.”

“We want to sell my parents’ house. We never come here anymore and the money will be wellcome. Robb convinced me to take a week off work to take care of it.”

“Oh, what a pity; your house is truly a piece of living history in Invernalia. I always thought that as long as you kept the house, you’d come back some day,” her friend says sadly. “Anyway, where are you working now?”

“I finished studying law and now I’m working at Tyrell & Associate’s law firm,” she explains, grateful not to talk anymore about the house. “I’ve been working with them for the past year. The job is demanding, but I like it. I’m learning a lot.”

“Oh my god!  You’re working at Tyrell & Associates? Aren’t they like the _god_ s of the lawyers?”

“Kind off… at least that’s what law magazines say but-“ Sansa stops at the middle of the sentence because her gaze catches a shining little thing on Jeyne’s hand and she thinks she knows what it is.  “Hey what’s that?” she asks pointing at her finger.  “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Jeyne looks entrance at her engagement ring as if she has just noticed it’s there.  “Oh, this…” she grins dreamily, “Mmm… remember that guy I had a crush on the day of the prom? Well… you know…”

Sansa’s jaw drops in awe before smiling widely. “Dondarrion? You’re going to marry Beric Dondarrion? Oh my goodness, Jeyne! That’s great! I’m so happy for you!”

“Amazing, isn’t it? I never thought I’d ever gathered the courage to even talk to him and look at us now!” They giggle and clap together and Sansa is so happy to know that her friend has finally met the prince she always dreamt of, that she proposes a silly toast. _“To love!”_

“Eh, but what about you?” Jeyne inquires.  “I can’t believe there isn’t anyone special in your life. I bet you have plenty of suitors, Ms. Stark,” she adds, sliding her glasses to the tip of her nose while she lifts her eyebrows to emphasize her name making Sansa laugh.

“Well… there is this guy I’ve been dating for the last few months…“ She begins, though it’s difficult to find the words to explain it, because she isn’t sure of what they really are these days, “His name is Garlan.  Garlan Tyrell.”

“No way!” Jeyne exclaims giving a blow on the table with the palm of her hand, but then she gets more serious and Sansa realizes why, “Is he _nice_ to you? You know after what happened with Joffrey…”

“Yes, he is nice and kind, and handsome…” she says, looking at the dessert the waiter has just bought.

“You don’t seem very excited about him…”

“Oh no, I like him. Yes, I do…”

To Sansa’s relief, the talk moves to another trivial subject during the dessert and they are almost finished when she finally dares to comment on what’s spinning in her mind since noon. “This morning I met Sandor Clegane at Brienne’s. I didn’t know he was back in Invernalia, you know, as he left _that_ day…” she tries to make sure her voice doesn’t show her interest, but she’s sure she’s failing.

“Oh yes, like a year and a half after he left, when his brother was found dead, he came back, to take care of the family heritage and all, but you had already left. He sold the Clegane’s house and bought a little house almost at the end of Invernalia, outside the walls, where the wheat fields begin. He does all kind of jobs; I’ve even asked him sometimes to help me at home. He doesn’t get along well with Beric so I’ve tried to make sure that they don’t meet!” she says, giggling.

“So, Gregor is dead?”

“Thank God he is. And so is Joffrey, but I guess you already know that…”

Sansa knew; Arya told her he killed himself and two of his friends, Meryl Trant and Boros Blunt, in a car accident. He was the driver and it seems alcohol wasn’t the worst that was found in his body when they performed the autopsy. The news was supposed to cheer her up; but she couldn’t feel anything but a hole inside her. Since Joffrey’s death, Tywin Lannister had also left his job as the mayor of the village and was now somewhere else trying to launch his political career with her daughter Cersei.

“It seems I’ve lost many things during these years…” Sansa mutters, “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I left. I should have called you more frequently…”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Jeyne replies firmly. “I know why you left this place and I’ve supported you since then. There was no reason you had to tolerate any longer how Joffrey treated you, nor his family. I'm very aware of how bad things were for you while you were with him, and about what happened in the end and... well, I’ve always thought that you made the right choice.” Her smile is sweet and honest and Sansa appreciates it because, not for the first time, she has doubted what she did: leave her hometown and her family to put distance between her and the monster who used to be her boyfriend. But it feels good to know there are still people in this little town that love her no matter what and she smiles back, wishing that they two could be friends again, because it isn’t like she has too many. “I have to go now,” Jeyne says, “I need to prepare tomorrow’s classes, but why don’t we meet this evening at the Square to have a drink? I know I wasn’t the only one who was looking forward to see you again.”

“Jeyne, you promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone!” Sansa complains, frowning at her friend who hasn’t stopped smiling.

“But he isn’t _anyone_! Come on Sansa, how could I not tell Pod you were coming? He was our best friend at school,” and she looks so hopeful, so happy and so pleading, looking at Sansa with those big brown eyes of hers that Sansa finally yields, “Fine, you win!”

“Great! There is this new bar called _The Wall_ at the Square okay?  Val owns it; she is super nice and has the best wines and the best menu of Invernalia. I’ll call Pod to join us. See you at 8 pm then?” Sansa nods and Jeyne claps delighted, “Fine, don’t fail me lady!”

“I won’t,” she promises as she asks for the check, “I take care of it, don’t worry.”  Jeyne hugs her and leaves the restaurant, leaving Sansa with a grin on her lips and looking forward to meeting her friend again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Brienne’s Bed & Breakfast](http://imageshack.com/a/img540/6780/Z2Vfwc.jpg)
> 
> [A glimpse at Invernalia](http://imageshack.com/a/img912/4580/zjArBw.jpg)
> 
> [Sansa’s coffee](http://imageshack.com/a/img633/9849/aVStoO.jpg)


	4. Chapter 4

 

"Stop looking at me that way, man, I just met her yesterday evening!" Jaime shrugs his shoulders and lifts up his palms, trying to shake off whatever responsibility Sandor wants to throw on him. They are at the back of the house with Brienne, and he’s all scowl and dark mood since his encounter with Sansa Stark a while ago.

"And you? She booked a room from you!" Sandor growls at Brienne.

"How could I have known? She used a nickname!  And besides, I didn't know I needed to inform _you_ about my guests, Clegane," she spits back.

"A nickname?  What nickname?"

" _shewolf18_ I think, who cares?"

 _Perfect_ , he grunts, because the damned name only lacks a red light on it to be more explicit.

"Hey, don't blame her." Jaime comes in from the kitchen with three cold beers just in time to defend his girlfriend. "You know she doesn’t have many guests during the week and couldn't say no just because you're an idiot that doesn't like to talk to people," he mocks him. "She is staying for the whole week and we need the money, you know that."

Sandor snorts and stares at the landscape in front of him after taking a long gulp of his beer. He knows damn well he can't blame his friends, but he can't help feeling angry at them for not telling him earlier, for not warning him that his past was about to hit him. He knew someone had come to sell the Stark’s House but never in a million years would he have guessed _she_ would be at his friend’s house, where he could meet her at any moment. But there she was, a piece of his past thrown at his ugly face in the form of long legged, big blue-eyed Sansa Stark, a flurry of long red hair and kind smile appearing in the living room of Brienne’s place to not leave in a week. She was taller than he remembered, older too, not a girl anymore but a woman, now that six years have passed since the last time he last saw her. And beautiful, so beautiful, even with those old clothes full of dust that she was wearing. Sandor wonders what she thought when she saw him standing there, as ugly, scarred, and moody as ever, if she would have felt that she was facing a scary piece of her past that she doesn't want to remember. _Yeah, that’s it, probably._

However, what angers Sandor more is his own behavior. She wanted nothing to do with him when she still lived in Invernalia and dated Joffrey Lannister, and he probably won’t see her again after a week so, why does he feel that way? Why is he so mad at his friends for not warning him? Why does he even care about her reaction? None of that should matter to him. But above all, he is angry because he has just realized that he does care, that Sansa Stark is still a fresh wound in his life that hasn’t healed properly.

It isn’t that he hasn’t tried. In fact, he has tried hard to forget and leave behind everything related to those fucking days; when Tywin Lannister still ruled the village and Sandor spent the day wandering around with Joffrey and his companions. He left Invernalia that rainy night that still aches, after waiting for hours in front of the Stark house thinking that maybe, _maybe_ , she would also want to fly from that shitty place where nothing good awaited for her. _Of course she wanted to, but not with you, fool._ Sandor travelled for months to villages, to towns, to big cities, meeting new people with the same disgust on their faces when they saw his scars. The new environments didn’t change anything for him as far as dealing with people was concerned, but at least it taught him that the world was bigger than what was ruled by the Lannisters. It also allowed him to learn some useful jobs to make a living and save some money, until a year and a half later, a call from the public notary made him return. With his brother dead under extremely dark circumstances that Sandor never bothered to investigate, the small inheritance from their father passed to him. He sold the old house a bought a new one outside the walls of the village, where he could sit on the back porch to drink a beer quietly and see the fields turn gold at sunset. By then, Sansa Stark had already fled to never return. Months later Ned and Catelyn Stark died in a car accident, and after the funeral, the few Starks that still lived at Invernalia closed the house and left too. Sometime later Joffrey died, Tywin and Cersei moved away to somewhere else and he had lived a quiet and boring life since then. Until that morning, when she burst into his life again, and he still doesn’t know how to manage the swarm of feelings that boil inside him.

Sandor takes another gulp of beer and looks at the horizon trying to think about something else, but it’s her image that comes to his mind once again. Her hand had felt so soft and small against his… and she had smiled, at least he has to give her that. _Joffrey was a bastard and never deserved her. I hope he rots in whatever hell he’s in_.

It’s Jaime who finally makes him return from his thoughts. “Why don’t we have a drink this evening? It’s too long since we did anything fun and maybe that would change your face. It’s like you’ve licked a lemon!”

Going out or Jaime’s silly jokes isn’t what Sandor needs, but he could have a drink, or two; anything to not think about the redhead that will be going to sleep under Brienne’s roof for the next seven days. “Fine,” he finally agrees with a growl, “see you later. Now I have work to do; seems like the electrical installation at the Baratheon’s isn’t working again. I did really a good job there; I don’t know what the hell they did with it after I’m gone.”

“Great. Are you coming too?” Jaime asks Brienne while his good hand winds around her waist, pulling her to him. His smile is mischievous and perfect; able to charm anyone he’d wish, his green eyes looking at her playful and full of hidden promises, and his girlfriend blushes and giggles as if it was the first time that he had stared at her that way. It still amuses Sandor how dazzled she still feels by his friend even after all the years that they’ve been together, as if she still couldn’t believe that a man like him could ever lay eyes on someone like her. It’s true that she isn’t a pretty girl; too tall for a woman, her nose too flat, her shoulders too wide, her blonde hair too short; but he can understand his friend. Jaime could have dated anyone in a thousand mile radius, yes, but none of those girls could have looked at him with half the love Brienne does, not have her honesty. Though sometimes she still drives Sandor mad, he has learned to appreciate her bare sincerity and her true friendship. Also, he knows, too, what it is to feel ugly and friendless until smart, good-looking Jaime Lannister burst into your life.

“Stop, you dummy,” she laughs when her boyfriend begins nibbling at her neck, pushing him softly away.  “I can’t go with you. I have to finish the accounting for the month. Enjoy a boy’s night, you two.”

“That’s a pity…” he says without letting Brienne out of his arms.  “Well; I’ll pick you up at 8 and we’ll go to Val’s place then.” Sandor rolls his eyes and hurries to the door to escape from the sugary scene he’s forced to watch, because today more than ever, he is not in the mood for romanticism.

\-----

It’s already 8:20 in the evening when they arrive at _The Wall_. Sandor has spent the afternoon working hard at the Baratheon’s; concentrated among cables, plugs and power strips. The family is one of his best clients since they hired him to be in charge of the whole installation of their new business – a fancy shop with expensive gourmet products of the region, like wine, cheese, jam, honey, and olives, where tourists love to spend their money - but they have somehow managed to need to call him almost every week to fix something. He can understand that soft, well-mannered Renly knows nothing that has anything to do with working with his own hands, but at least Stannis should know better. Stannis has always been the hard worker of the family, but it seems the man has inherited the same poor skills of his unfortunate brother Robert where changing a simple bulb is concerned.

Val’s bar is the most popular in Invernalia since she opened it a year ago. The place used to be an old butcher’s shop that always smelled like hell, but the girl made some repairs in it, keeping some of the old furniture and mixing it with some modern decoration and it turned out that people loved it. It’s really a nice place, with wooden shelves full of bottles of wine covering the walls and a good selection of meals; though for Sandor it’s simply another place where he can have a beer after a long day of work.

It’s Monday and there aren’t many people in the bar, so he notices her as soon as they walk through the door.  Sansa is sitting at one of the tables, all smiles and animated conversation with that teacher, Dondarrion’s girlfriend. She’s now wearing a red blouse, blue trousers and flats, her long hair pulled over one shoulder and Sandor needs to suppress a curse when the teacher finally notices them and, waving a hand, shouts a _hey guys_ from where the girls are sitting. Jaime walks to the table with his most charming smile, his _hello ladies what a surprise_ and his tons of good mood and confidence, while Sandor follows him frowning and wondering why in the seven hells does he have to meet her not once, but twice in a day after so many years. Sansa looks surprised or bothered when she sees him – he has never been any good at reading women’s expressions – and he just wishes he could to leave that place before it’s too late.

“Hi again, Sandor,” she says with a kind grin, though she certainly looks as nervous as him. His name still sounds strange to his ears when coming from her lips, as if pronouncing it was the most usual thing in the world for her, and he wonders how many times back then had she called him by his first name, but can’t recall any.

He grunts a _hi_ and hurries to the bar to ask for a drink, while the three of them begin talking about everything and nothing, if they are going to order something for dinner and more things Sandor don’t want to even listen to. Sansa answers politely all of Jaime’s questions about her job, laughs at his silly jokes, and listens carefully to the many and more anecdotes about the village their friends want to share with her. She sips her glass of red wine from time to time, smiles and laughs, changes her hair from one shoulder to the other, and Sandor realizes he’s staring at her like he used to do when she was still Joffrey’s girl; like something pretty  but far from his reach, precious and forbidden, even if he is sharing her table and she is just a few inches away. However, she isn’t that frightened teenager anymore; she is six years older now, and smart. Sansa explains that she studied law at college and works now for one of those big law firms in the city where everybody has to wear a dark suit and work for 14 hours a day to make a lot of money. _At least one of us managed to succeed out of her_ e, he snorts while looking at her hands against his will to see if there is any kind of ring on them.

_You’re a fucking creep, Clegane._

Sandor is already feeling that he’s going to need more than a beer to bear the night when the door opens again and Podrick Payne comes in to join the party.

“Sansa Stark!” he shouts to the whole bar, and Sansa runs happily to meet her friend, her face lit-up like a fucking Christmas tree. He hugs her and lifts her and they laugh and seem so happy to see each other that Sandor thinks he could vomit at the silly scene. The boy compliments her shamelessly, gifting her ears with empty words about how beautiful she is, how tall or how men should be lining up in the city to date her, while she giggles and blushes and tells him to stop with no success. When he comes to sit by the table with them, Sandor can’t bear it any longer and leaves the table to the bar to ask for another double beer and with no intention to sit back down again.

It’s not only that she looks so happy to meet her old friend or so comfortable when he hugs her, he tells to himself. It isn’t as if a dark hidden part of him wishes that she had done the same when meeting him that morning - though nobody has had that effusiveness with him ever and even less the courage to be any near to the hideous scars of his face. It’s not that Pod Payne is comely to look at and funny and Jeyne Poole’s best friend, or that he has flirted with and dated half the girls in Invernalia with those same silly words he’s using now with Sansa. He knows it isn’t even that despite the latter, he still pleases everybody and has plenty of friends and is making her laugh and smile as he has never seen her before. No, it isn’t any of that, Sandor reminds to himself. What really angers him is that he seems to be the only one out of place there, the only one whose guts are aching since this morning and nobody seems to be willing to stop the events from breaking him apart.

Sandor is drinking alone at the counter, his back turned to them, listening to the happy scene from afar and cursing his luck when Sansa shows up at the bar, an empty glass at her hand and a nervous smile on her lips asking Val for a refill. She waits for her wine by his side, her arms resting on the bar, tapping on the wooden counter with her fingertips.

“Are you never talking to me again?” she finally says turning to face him, her kind voice breaking the silence. She is looking at him with those big blue eyes of hers that seem to give nothing away, without any sign of disgust on her face, curious or maybe amused about what could be his answer.

“So, you didn’t return to attend your parents’ funeral, but you come back to sell their house…”

He knows her grin is fading before he has even finished the sentence. Her gaze hardens and she frowns angrily, and Sandor would like to regret his words because he knows they sting. However, he doesn’t; disappointment and annoyance is something he does know how to deal with and though deep inside him something wants to see her smile again, he prefers it that way. At least, he is more used to that than to cheerfulness and small talk.

“You know, I’ve feared coming back for days. Now I know why.”

Expecting her words doesn’t make them hurt any less. The kindness is gone and her pretty face matches the hard tone of her voice and he realizes that the kind, soft-spoken Sansa Stark he knew six years ago would have never talked to him that way. He realizes that he may like her better now, although he’s aware that that’s probably the end of any kind of relationship they could ever have during the next days. Sansa has already taken her glass and has walked two steps towards the table to join her friends when she stops to turn and look back at him.

“You don’t know everything that happens in this village. Take that into account the next time you try to judge me, Clegane,” she spits back, and with that she finally goes back to sit with the others but Sandor notices how she doesn’t laugh anymore.

\-----

“What the hell did you say to the girl, you jerk?” Jaime reproaches him once in the car as he drives him back home. “I already knew you weren’t the king of parties but at least you could have kept your mouth shut for once and not spoil her the evening. She’s not to blame for your twisted mind!”

Sandor doesn’t want to listen to him, nor has anything to add. His mood is getting darker and he just wants to be left alone.

“Listen; try not to scare her anymore, OK? I don’t want her leaving Brienne’s and booking a room somewhere else just because of your big mouth.”

Sandor snorts as an answer and finally steps out of Jaime’s car when it comes to a stop in front of his house. The day has been shitty and all he longs for now is to fall asleep lulled by the beer he has drunk until next morning, wishing not to see Sansa Stark for the rest of the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't blame poor Sandor too much, he's isn't having the best day! XD
> 
> ["The Wall"](http://imageshack.com/a/img538/1851/ZImq04.jpg)
> 
>  [Another picset](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/121424068859/fields-of-gold-chapter-4-sandor-takes-another)


	5. Chapter 5

** **

 

**TUESDAY**

_"This ain't a song for the broken-hearted, No silent prayer for the faith-departed…”_ Bon Jovi sings on her iPod as Sansa runs along the road that leads from Brienne’s house to Invernalia. It’s 8 am, the sun is rising and, though she usually doesn’t like running in the mornings, today she feels the need to vent on her sneakers the turmoil of feelings and worries that boil inside her mind.

The insurance company she had called yesterday evening said that yes, they would cover all the repair works for the house, but that they couldn’t send anyone to work on it until next week. That would sound like good news if it wasn’t for the fact that she doesn’t have that time; that same morning she had received an email from the state agency telling her that their appraiser will visit the house next Friday. Three days: that’s all the time she has to make something habitable out of a place that has been abandoned and forgotten for the past six years - if she wants to give the state company a good impression and help them to sell the house better and quickly. Those are real problems, the ones she should think about dealing with as soon as possible. However, as her feet rhythmically hit the road and Bon Jovi  keeps singing to her that this is her life, that it’s now or ever, that she ain’t gonna live forever - that isn’t what occupies her mind. Instead, it’s the stupid words Sandor Clegane spat at her last night.

It had been a nice afternoon with her friend and even when Jaime and he showed up at the bar, Sansa hadn’t lost her good mood. Though Sandor barely talked, Jaime was charismatic and funny and made them laugh, and meeting Pod again had done nothing but cheer her up even more. Sandor had changed from his working clothes to clean jeans, a plaid shirt rolled to his elbows and his long dark hair hanging loose over his shoulders, though looking tidier didn’t make him look any less imposing. He had simply growled a greeting and though the guy didn’t seem to be at his best, she had noticed how his gray eyes were never far from her, as if studying each one of her words or gestures.

During the past few years she had wondered many times what had become of him. Somehow, their scarce interactions during the time she dated Joffrey, when he still used to accompany her boyfriend and his friends, have refused to leave her mind for long and Sansa feels that somehow he had never really been too far from her thoughts. However, she never expected to meet him again after the night when he had stopped his van and waited for her in front of her parents’ house, vanishing then forever. Finding out that he was still living at Invernalia had been a great shock that she still doesn’t know how to deal with.

His harsh words still stung; how dare he to talk to her about her family without knowing anything?  How dare he judge her?  She had just tried to make conversation, to be kind, but the guy was not about to help. It’s clear that he hasn’t forgotten either and what is worse, hasn’t forgiven her.

Yes, she _ain’t gonna live forever_ , as her iPod sings, nor did her parents.  What Sandor said had hurt her, especially because it isn’t true. She was at the funeral; though she was aware that Tywin, Cersei or Joffrey could see her and only her brothers knew. She arrived at the cemetery just in time for the ceremony and said goodbye to Ned and Catelyn among tears and pain from afar, hidden from the people that crowded the place, while Robb, Jon, Rickon, Bran and Arya thanked them for coming. Later, Sansa prayed for them alone in the cemetery’s church and that same night she had left the village again, fearing she might face a Lannister if she stayed longer. Sandor wouldn’t have to know it, but that didn’t give him any right to talk to her that way nor to question her about it. _Why does he even care?_ She wonders angrily while taking a curve in the road and jogging again towards the Bed and Breakfast.  It’s none of his business and if he is angry with her, then now she is with him too. Bon Jovi knows it too, because he reminds Sansa that IT’S. MY. LIFE.  

\-----

Brienne is already preparing breakfast when Sansa finally goes downstairs, after getting rid of her sport clothes and having a comforting shower.

“Want some coffee?” Brienne asks with a smile as she approaches the kitchen and sits on a stool next to the counter.  It smells of toast and coffee and Sansa’s belly roars to eat something.

“Double, please.”

“Well, looks like you didn’t get too much rest last night. Any problem I can help you with?”

“It’s the house,” she explains sighing, “There is some work that needs to be done with it, but the insurance company can’t send me the workers until next week. Do you know of any company that does this kind of work here?”

“Well, as you know this is a small village. The only company that does these jobs is in Salinas (*). It’s only 15 kilometers from here and they work very well. You can call them; I’m sure they could prepare you a quotation in a couple of days and begin to work before the weekend.”

“I don’t have that much time; the appraiser is coming on Friday, and besides, if they are so good, I’m not sure if I’ll be able afford their services…”

Brienne bites her toast quietly; the bread crunches sending little crumbs over the counter that she cleans with her fingers while Sansa warms her hands around the coffee mug and stares at the black liquid, trying to think of something.

“Or you could call Sandor,” Brienne says between bites of toast as if it is nothing, and Sansa freezes on the stool.

“I- I don’t really think it’s a good idea…”

“Why not? You saw how quickly he fixed your shower. He’s very hard worker and knows the job perfectly. Look, I know he’s hard to look at and even harder to handle but he works well and fast, and he’s cheaper than any other company.”

“I don’t know…” Sansa hesitates; she doesn’t know how to make her understand that she really doesn’t want to see him again, much less work with him, and that it’s very probable that the guy himself thinks the same about her.

“I don’t see any other solution, Sansa, unless you want the appraiser and the agency to sell the house as it is now.”

“Brienne I… honestly, I think he isn’t very happy to have me around.”

“He isn’t very happy to have _anyone_ around, believe me!” she jokes. “Give him a try.  He’s really good at this and I know he needs the money. He won’t say no.”

After some seconds of thought in which no other excuse comes to her mind, Sansa finally yields and mutters a “ _fine”_ to a confident Brienne, who takes the phone to call him right now; though to Sansa’s relief, nobody answers. “I bet he’s still sleeping. Jaime told me he took a few good beers last night. So, you’ll have to go see him.”

“Oh no! That’s not…” Sansa tries to protest to the ridiculous suggestion but Brienne doesn’t give her time to finish the sentence. “That’s his address,” she is saying as she handles her a piece of paper on which she has written the name of a street. “His house is at the end of this street, outside the village’s wall, at the other side of Invernalia. You’ll recognize it because is the only one who doesn’t have any neighbors around.” Sansa takes the paper and stares at it frowning, and though her mouth opens and closes, she can’t find anything else to say.

So that’s how ten minutes later she finds herself in her Audi driving to a house she doesn’t want to know to hire someone she doesn’t want to meet again.   _I’m doing this for my brothers and sister, to sell the house quickly. I’ll be leaving soon…_ she tells herself once and again as she turns on the music to let Diana Krall sooth her nerves. It isn’t a long drive and she soon finds the street that’s on the paper. As Brienne said, Sandor’s house is easily recognizable at the end of the street; a two-floor stone house – as are most in Invernalia – with a wooden door and wooden matching windows at the front, and reddish tiles that seem to glow with the morning sun. It’s really the last one of the village, far from the busy Main Square. No more buildings are seen behind it as far as the eye can see, but kilometers and kilometers of fields of all shades and colors; the golden of the wheat, the red of the poppies, the bright yellow of the sunflowers and even some green cypresses flanking a dirt road that begins near there and winds up until get lost in the horizon. It’s really a calming and hypnotic view that the landscape offers from there and Sansa needs to remind herself what she has come there to do to break out of the reverie.

Sansa walks to the front door and, taking a deep breath, gathers the courage to ring the bell. Nobody answers, though he must be there - his van is parked outside - so she tries again with the same luck. After ringing for a third time she thinks that’s enough for today, she has tried and now, she is leaving. She has only taken a step back when the sound of strong strides approaching makes her turn around in time to see how the door bursts open and a heated, shirtless Sandor fills the doorframe.

“What the hell…” he growls.

The man looks like he’s had the most awful night. All dark hair messing over his shoulders and no other clothes than a pair of pajama pants hanging loosely from his hips, he’s frowning at her, dazzled by the morning sun. Sansa can’t draw her eyes off the hulking mass of muscles that is his body and, as she isn’t able to say a word, Sandor folds his arms over his chest and leans on the threshold with a smirk on his lips.

“Enjoying the view, miss?”

It isn’t until Sansa hears his mocking tone and notices that smug smile on his face that she realizes her mouth is open and she hasn’t managed to say anything yet. She finally takes her eyes off him and, embarrassed and offended, turns on her heel after muttering a “ _forget it, this is a bad idea.”_

“Hey!” he calls her before she gets in the car, “I guess you didn’t come here just to say good morning, did you?” He has stepped out of the door and slowly paddles barefoot over the pavement of the street towards her. “What did you want?”

“I…” Sansa doesn’t know what to say; she is still mad at him for what he said last night, uncomfortable from the minimally-clothed welcome and to be honest, she doesn’t even know how to face the conversation.

“Look, if this is for what I said yesterday… you can call me a jerk. I guess I deserve it,” he says, the confident smile gone now, and she feels oddly embarrassed for it, realizing she wasn’t very polite either with her sharp reply. Sandor waits in front of her, scratching his beard lightly and staring curious at her, still waiting for her to explain herself, but it’s difficult to think with his watchful grey gaze over her.

“No… I- I came to offer you a job.”

“A job?”

“Yes,” she finally explains, more confident now that the issue is on the table. “My parents’ house needs some repairs before I can sell it, but I can’t find anyone to work on it in time before the appraiser comes. Brienne said you could do it, she was the one who gave me your address.”

“Brienne, huh?” he frowns.  “And what do you exactly need?”

“Fix the electricity system and some pipes, some repairs on the floor… just, you know, the usual things for an old house. The appraiser comes on Friday…”

“Hells girl, do you expect me to repair a whole house in two and a half days? You must be joking!”

 _This is such a bad idea…_ Sansa thinks though she knows he is her only option, “I know it sounds like a lot, but… Please, come visit the house so you can see if it can be done or not. And if not, I won’t bother you anymore, I promise.”

He seems to be thinking about her offer for what seems an eternity, but finally agrees, “Fine. See you there in an hour,” and with that he turns to his house while his long hair bounces over his back and she mutters a “ _thank you”_ she is certain he doesn’t hear before slamming the door behind him.

\-----

Sansa waits for him while having another long coffee at a terrace at the main square. She is calmer now that Sandor has agreed to have a look at the house and though working with him doesn’t seem easy, she thinks that maybe she can manage to have everything ready for Friday.

She finally glimpses his van driving along the street and rushes to meet him. Though his wet ponytail is leaving a trail of water on the back of his white t-shirt, he looks far better than he did an hour ago. Sansa opens the main door and invites him in; he looks around interested for a moment but then he focuses on his task, “OK, tell me what you need.”

She accompanies him throughout the house, showing him the damages she has observed, the lights that don’t work, the water taps ruined, and pointing at things she’d like to be fixed. He follows her and checks everything she talks about, asking some professional questions and taking mental notes of everything he notices.

“So, what do you think?” she finally dares to ask, nervous, when they are back in the living room after a while wandering around the place.

He shrugs.  “It can be done.”

 “Really?” Sansa feels her smile creeping onto her lips at his words and can’t help her relief. “Would you work for me then?”

A simple nod.  “I’ll start tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Isn’t that a bit late? How about this afternoon?”

“Tomorrow. Be here at 7 am with the keys, _miss_ , no need to come to wake me up again,” Sandor replies as he walks to the door to leave.

“B-but…” she stammers struggling to find the proper words, “We haven’t even talked about the payment!”

Sandor has already the door knob on his hand and a foot outside the house, “Tomorrow, I’ve said,” he grunts before stepping outside and leaving, leaving her astonished and alone in the hall with a frown on her face and a handful of questions still hanging from her lips.

The rest of the day passes by slowly between lunch with Brienne and Jaime and a walk with Jeyne; more than fifty demanding emails from the office that need a reply as soon as possible during the afternoon, and the several business calls that answering them generates afterwards. It isn’t very late when sleep overcomes her and she creeps into her bed thinking about the early hour she needs be up the next day. The idea of spending more time with Sandor Clegane isn’t very flattering; though he has agreed to work for her, he doesn’t seem very pleased to have to do it. It seems to her that even having to talk to her bothers the man, so few are the phrases that he dares to address to her. _Why is he always so moody?_ When the screen of her phone lights the room and a loving _hi sweetie_ from Myranda appears on it, Sansa is wondering again if hiring Sandor Clegane for this job has been a wise idea.

\-----

 

 **Randa** : How was your day? Everything went well?

 **Sansa** : I met him again.

 **Randa** : met, who?

 **Sansa** : Him. _Him_

 **Randa** : you mean the guy who waited for you _that_ day…

 **Sansa** : yes, _that_ guy

 **Randa** : and what happened?

 **Sansa** : I think he hates me now.

 **Randa** : really?

 **Sansa** : yeah. Well, I’m going to sleep. Good night m’lady!

 **Randa** : Good night!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*) Salinas is the Spanish name for Saltpants.
> 
> Aaahh I like Bon Jovi so much! :P 
> 
> [Picset](http://imageshack.com/a/img661/4889/EkOJXG.jpg) 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That was a long time ago, but you see, I still remember everything. I still remembered _you_ ,” She smiles at him, and it’s probably the most sincere smile she has shown to him since they met last Monday. Sandor just snorts and avoids her eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but somehow she knows there is now a little crack in the wall that separates them and that maybe, _maybe_ , some air can breathe through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter ahead. Warning for silly moments, stories about their past (FINALLY) and mentions of Joffrey... well, being Joffrey.

 

 

**WEDNESDAY**

It’s a quarter to seven in the morning and the day has not yet dawned when Sandor parks his van in front of the Stark House, with the idea of unloading the work instruments and materials from the truck early. Sansa arrives soon after him, slowly driving her neat white car until it’s parked behind his. Wrapped in a thick turtleneck to ward off the morning cold, she is all sluggish movements and sleepy eyes while she gets out of the car, a disheveled ponytail and a flask of coffee on her hand. And even at that early hour of the day she doesn’t forget her courtesies and murmurs a _good morning_ to him, followed by a discreet yawn hidden behind her palm. Sandor can’t help but chuckle, wondering how it’s possible that this harmless drowsy girl in jeans and sneakers could be the same one who just a day ago stared at him at his own door, somewhere between ashamed and angry, too mortified to tell him what she had come to do there.

Sandor still remembers his annoyance when the doorbell hadn’t stopped ringing forcing him out of bed. He’d expected the hangover, the bad sleep and his usual bad mood in the mornings; what he hadn't expected was to find Sansa Stark at his door when he was ready to send to hell whoever had dared to wake him up in his own house. He had bought that house, far from the center of town, to be left alone and have a quiet life; he wasn’t used to any kind of visitors who weren’t Jaime or Brienne, least of all in the mornings. However, the girl seemed as taken aback as he was when he pulled open the door - simply wearing a pair of pants that he’d only remembered to put on at the last moment - and she met his ugly face and that mess of hair of his. Her face turned quickly from a pale color to a reddish one as she stared at him, and despite his bad mood and the incipient headache, he found the scene too amusing. _If she wants to watch, let her watch_.

Certainly the job offer had taken him unaware; of all the damn things she could be doing there, that was certainly the last one he would have thought of. He had said yes - when he really wanted to say _no, get out of my life and go trouble someone else with your problems_ \- and an hour later he was driving with an increasing headache to a house that he had never entered before. He should have said _no, no and a hundredfold no_ , but his lips didn’t dare to follow his mind and anyway, he wonders if anyone could ever resist the way she looked at him, as if he were the only person able to offer her a hand. And maybe it was true.

The famous Stark House was impressive inside and out. Although it needs some repairs to be fit to live in again, Sandor realized it wasn’t as alarming as he had imagined. He should have begun working as soon as possible, but his head was already killing him and besides, he’d need to get a few things first if he wanted to do the job properly.

The rest of the morning passed among aspirins, a short nap and a growling call to Brienne about giving Sansa his address in which, as was usual in their relationship, she wasn’t impressed at all by his complaints or harsh tone. Instead, she handed the phone to a cheerful Jaime and with that their conversation was settled. His friend offered to accompany him on a supply run for the work required as it had been his girlfriend who had started everything, and so they spent Tuesday evening driving to Salinas and visiting several hardware stores.

“Why are you complaining so much?” Jaime said from the passenger seat as they drive along the road back to Invernalia after buying everything he’s going to need, “Brienne got you a job!”

“I didn’t need more work right now, I’ll work on the wheat harvest in a few weeks.”

“Well, this is easier, and quicker. And some more money is always welcome. Besides, it seems nice to be working next to Sansa,” he added, lifting his perfect eyebrows and tilting his head to him in complicity, “the girl is a beauty and I always thought you had a thing for redheads.” He laughed but Sandor just snorted as a reply. He knew his friend too damn well to know where he wanted to go with all those mischievous insinuations and wasn’t in the mood to play his game. Jaime kept grinning at what seemed to be his own private joke, and the worst part of all was that he was right. Sansa is a beauty; covered in dust, nicely dressed at a bar, or even with an old fashioned sweater early in the morning it is difficult for him to keep his eyes off her.

So now here he is, a tool belt hanging from his hips and carrying a huge toolbox while Sansa opens him her old home’s door. She helps him to carry in the things he needs to the living room, where he carefully starts organizing wires, plugs, pipes, nuts, bulbs, and screws of all sizes and thickness.

“I’m beginning with the power installation,” he explains to her, “so there’s light when it gets dark this evening.”

“OK.  Just tell me how I can be of help.”

“Don’t worry, miss, I’ll manage. Do whatever you need; I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Well, then I think I’ll try to clean up around here and take off all these sheets,” she says pointing at the big ghostly pieces of cloth that cover the furniture.

Sandor begins working on the main lights of the living room and almost immediately discovers that it’s simply the connection between wire and switch that isn’t working. So, screwdriver and pliers in hand, he quickly gets down to work. However, it’s hard trying to concentrate on what he’s doing when she is around. Sansa is a flurry of red and white while she fights against the sheets, revealing little by little pieces of a previous life that had been hidden for six years. Sometimes, after unwrapping a piece of furniture, she stands in front of it as if studying the thing, probably lost in happy memories from other times involving her parents or any of her siblings. Once, Sandor even catches a glimpse of a tear that she wipes hurriedly before it falls down her cheek. Soon he realizes that watching her moving around her house is too tempting, so with a grunt and a curse he tries thoughtfully to focus on whatever task he was doing again.

Sansa’s phone _bips_ frequently with dozens of text messages, business calls, friends and even once from the state agency; in what appears to be a reflection of her busy life at the city. She talks politely and nicely with everybody, and Sandor’s feels like a creepy old man overhearing her under the pounding of the hammer. He even notices the only time that, after staring at the screen from several rings, she doesn’t pick up one of the calls. Instead she silences her iPhone, keeping it in her purse, and Sandor wonders, intrigued, who the hell is the only one that the well-mannered Stark girl doesn’t want to talk to.

It is mid-morning and half the lights of the ground floor have been already fixed when he hears the scream. Sandor thunders upstairs where the urgent cries for help come from, thinking that the girl is hurt, that something has broken, hitting her, or that she has fallen or is injured. He runs through the long corridor until he finds her in one of the bedrooms. Sandor expects her to be fallen on the floor or bleeding or something worse; however what he finds is Sansa standing on the bed looking scared.

“What the hell is happening here??” he growls, looking around disconcerted.

“Oh, thank god you came! I-It’s there!” she says nervously pointing to a corner of the room with a trembling finger.

Sandor frowns and looks at the place she is talking about, then to her, then to the corner, and he can’t help but throw back his head and burst out laughing until his jaw hurts. Sansa is staring at him with her mouth open in disbelief and blushing like an apple at his shameless response to her problem.

“A mouse?? Are you kidding me?”

“What? No, I’m not! Aren’t you going to do anything?” she tries to gather her courage in front of him, but still isn’t able to get down off the bed.

“I guess there aren’t many of these at your pretty place at the city,” Sandor mocks her. He is leaning on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and grinning; really enjoying the situation.

“No, there are no mice in my apartment, thank you. Now, please, do something…” her facade of annoyance is fading as she recovers color on her face.

“What do you want me to do girl, fight him?”

“Please Sandor…” her blue eyes are pleading him too and she has even join her hands in front of her to emphasize her words. He finds kind of funny that suddenly, after six years, she needs him so much, even if it’s for such simple reasons as fixing a switch or shooing away a little rodent.

“Fine, let me see what weapons I have for this battle.”

He’s still chuckling when a few moments later enters the room again armed with a bucket and a broom. Sansa watches him from her safe place over the bed as he corners the mouse against the wall and then with a quick movement sweeps it into the bucket.

“Do you want to see the beast closely? There’s nothing to fear, I’m here to protect you,” he teases her while approaching the bed and lifting the bucket in front of her.

“No! Take him away!” she cries. She has taken a step backwards until her back is against the wall and is looking at the bucket with a grimace that makes her nose wrinkle comically.

Sandor, shrugs, “I’ll free him on the street then.”

Sansa has already left her safe place over the mattress when he comes in again after freeing the poor animal in a street far from the house, and is waiting for him at the hall, her composure and calm recovered now.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about the scene before. I must seem so foolish to you!”

“Not that much yet. I didn’t know my job included dealing with animals, I hope you’ve added that to my contract.” He is teasing her and she knows it, though instead of getting angry she chuckles and smiles at him; a genuine smile, not a courteous one this time.

“Cornered and scared in my own house by a little mouse! If only Arya or my father had seen me... There’d have been jokes for months!” She laughs at herself for what had just happened and her laugh fills the air like rain on a sultry day, easing the tension that had settled between them since Monday evening.

“OK, now that you’re safe, let’s get back to work again.”

\-----

Sansa still feels a little ashamed for the mouse incident, however she has laughed as much as him at it afterwards.  Seems like she has forgotten that the countryside is all around, and that all kind of insects and little animals run free here. However, she was always the easiest to scare of her siblings, and Arya enjoyed teasing her about it whenever she and Bran caught a poor bug and ran to show it to her.

The rest of the morning passes without further troubles until lunch time when she leaves to meet Jeyne. Sandor stays at the house; he tells her he’ll eat a sandwich right there and resume work as soon as possible. She feels bad for leaving him alone working for her, but Jeyne is waiting and she’s already late and besides, he seems to be managing pretty well on his own.

The “mouse incident” delights her friend during lunch. Jeyne finds especially hilarious the image of such a big man as Sandor trying to catch a little mouse for her, how terrified the tiny thing should have felt cornered by some kind of human giant, and she makes Sansa laugh again about it when she recalls how it was. At least it’s nice to be able to smile after having felt so overwhelmed by memories while she tried to put some order around the house. She has tried to be occupied and not think too much, but the absence of her parents, and even her brothers and sister around, is so heavy that sometimes she feared she couldn’t breathe anymore in there. That house was once a home, _their home_ , but circumstances have ripped it apart, scattering all of them far from Invernalia and, somehow it feels wrong to be stirring up the past.

Sandor is already working on the kitchen when she gets back. The man seems tireless despite the long hours of work and it’s a huge deal to get to everything she has told him. She climbs upstairs with the idea of finishing cleaning the bedrooms, but she had gotten up so early and is so tired even though it’s only 3 pm that almost without noticing, she falls asleep cuddled on her parent’s old bed.

It’s five in the afternoon when she wakes up, feeling suddenly guilty for leaving Sandor alone while she was resting. She runs downstairs, where he’s still working on something in the kitchen.

“How was the nap?”

Sansa knows her cheeks have turned red instantly, but manages to say a _fine, thank you_ before trying to deny it.

“Don’t feel bad about it. I just couldn’t hear you or your phone for a while and guessed you had laid down to rest for a while. Tomorrow you should come later,” he tells her, and she is grateful that he doesn’t mock her for it.

Suddenly hard knocks on the main door resound all over the place, leaving them stuck on the spot. How long is it since someone last used that knocker?  How long has it been since she heard it?

“Do you expect a visit?” Sandor asks as he wipes her hands with a towel.

“No, I should go see who it is…”

Jaime Lannister waits at the door, a wave of stunning smile and cheerful mood as soon as she opens it.

“Jaime! What a surprise!” Sansa can’t help but smile back at him, glad to have some more company.

“Hi! I was walking by and thought I could lend you a hand,” he japes, lifting up his stump.  Sansa stills for a moment, not knowing what to say to his _special_ sense of humor, until he laughs and she follows him giggling too.

“Hi there,” Sandor says behind her, “What are you doing here? Apart from your usual _show-of-silly-jokes-for-new-friends_ , I mean.”

“Brienne is afraid you may starve, being the whole day here and, as she knows how horrible Sandor’s sandwiches usually are,” Jaime adds, looking at Sandor, “she’s sent me with your dinner,” he says, lifting a big shopping bag he’s carrying.

“Oh thank you! Please, come in, you can leave it in the kitchen,” Sansa finally remembers her courtesies and leads him inside. Brienne has prepared them her mum’s pie, grilled vegetables, chicken croquettes and even a fruit salad as dessert and Sansa’s mouth is watering before even trying any of it.

“I bought some beers for your worker, and lemon tea for the lady.”

“Thank you Jaime, you’re very kind. Will you stay for dinner?”

“Nah, have some work to do. Don’t let him grunt and frown too much at you. You may have noticed he likes doing that,” he says, nodding his head to Sandor and winking at her.

“I won’t, I promise,” Sansa replies with a smile, and she thinks how is it possible that she could like someone called Lannister so much, and that Sandor himself allows him to joke about him, because he doesn’t seem to be the kind of man who people make fun of. But it’s obvious they both know each other well and enjoy this dynamic.

“If you aren’t able to say anything good about me, better get your ass out of here Lannister!” his friend tells him off, and with a funny reverence, Jaime shoots a smile to Sansa and leaves as quickly as he came.

“Will you have dinner with me then?” Sansa asks Sandor when they are alone again, “It’s too much for only one person!”

The man seems to be pondering for a moment before nodding, “But I need to finish the kitchen lights fist.”

Sansa resumes her work on the first floor and then cleans the kitchen and prepares Brienne’s meal, and two and a half hours later they are sat at the kitchen table having the first dinner at the Stark House in years. Everything smells great as they attack the food without further word, and though neither of them seem to want to break it, somehow the silence isn’t uncomfortable. Sansa feels calm around him for the first time since they met two days ago and is grateful for that. Besides, although she may not have been able to stop to think about it yet, she knows the reason for the tension in Sandor; there are still things that haven’t been said between them, things that happened and marked them both, that she is well aware neither of them have forgotten.

“I never thanked you for what you did,” the words slip out of her lips following her thoughts without even noticing and she lifts her gaze to him for a second, enough to see how he stills and frowns.

“This is my job, no need to thank me for that.”

“You know I’m not talking about this job, Sandor. I haven’t forgotten you were the only one who tried to help me when everything happened.”

He keeps eating, as if oblivious to her words, but she knows he recalls it as clearly as she does. Sandor worked for Tywin Lannister back then, when she dated Joffrey and the boy enjoyed having his friends around when they met. Everything seemed like a fairy tale at the beginning. Their fathers were friends and when Joffrey asked her out, no one in her family disagreed. He looked so handsome and seemed so kind, his family even lived at the castle of the village and she felt like a princess when she visited them. However, it was only a mere mirage. After a few weeks, Joffrey got tired of playing the charming prince and his true personality began to show. At first it was only mean comments about her looks or how ugly she was that afternoon, then, the discussions in front of whoever wanted to listen to them. The public insults among the laughs of his friends came soon after. Meryn Trant and Boros Blount always did what Joffrey demanded of them, laughing at his jokes and even making their own mockeries of her. Sandor Clegane was with them most of the time, never laughing, his expression dark and illegible, and many times Sansa had wondered why he accompanied them if he didn’t share their ways. She liked to think that deep inside, Joffrey was scared of the big man his grandfather had asked to keep him under surveillance.

Now she knows she should have acted earlier; that she should have told her parents or even Robb, but she was only 17 and was scared and embarrassed, and didn’t want her family to know how the boy humiliated her constantly - Jeyne being the only person who shared her tears and sorrows. The day she finally gathered the courage to break off their relationship, Joffrey had asked her to meet him at the Lannister’s Castle. They were all there when she arrived, Joffrey, Trant, Blount and Clegane, drinking and smoking outside the main gate, laughing at their own stupid jokes; but when she told him to never call her again, that she didn’t want to see him ever again, all the smiles died on their lips _. “I’ll say when I don’t want to see you again, you stupid girl. Seems like you need to be taught a lesson_.” Sansa can recall the words clearly, as well as Joffrey’s wicked grin and the shiver that ran through her spine when all of them rose to their feet. “ _Meryn, show a little bit of discipline to my girlfriend,”_ he ordered to his minion.

Meryn Trant’s arm raised, ready to hit her right in the face and she just closed her eyes, waiting for a blow that never came. “ _Stop!”_ Sandor’s deep voice roared instead above the silence. He had grabbed Meryn’s wrist before he could hit her and had tossed aside the man with a single pull. Sansa still remembers staring at him, astonished and scared, when a second later Joffrey took her by the shoulders and pushed her down the stone steps that lead to the castle. She remembers each one of the parts of her body that hit the fifteen steps until her body finally hit the ground and she could no longer felt anything.

She remembers the ambulance lights, the smell of the hospital, the cries of her mother, the bruises and wounds that lasted for more than a month, the pills, the police officer who took the statement, the formal complaint her father reported to the police. It’s all still vivid in her mind; it’s all an old nightmare that comes to visit her from time to time and doesn’t allow her to forget.

“I did nothing,” Sandor finally mutters, pulling her out of her thoughts, “They hurt you all the same. I should have pushed Joffrey myself down those steps…”

There wasn’t even a trial; the police were bribed by Tywin and Joffrey declared that she slipped and fell on her own. No one even tried to test how much alcohol had he drunk that night. Everybody believed him and with that, the case was closed. Sansa still recalls it was a cold rainy day when she and her father left the police station the day the police stated that it was her own fault. It had happened only three days ago, then, and she could barely walk for the pain. There was nobody to wait for them, nobody interested in what happened. Sansa was waiting outside the building for Ned to bring the car, shivering and soaked despite her umbrella when Sandor Clegane appeared next to her from nowhere. “ _Bugger the Lannisters_ , _I’m leaving.” “Where?”_ Was the only thing she managed to said. “ _Don’t know, somewhere, anywhere far from this shitty village.”_ She remembers his gray stare locked with hers for what seemed an eternity. When her father arrived to pick her up, Sandor had already left.

“You offered me a way out. That’s more than anybody did.”

That evening, Sansa had watched his van from her window. It never stopped raining and he didn’t move for hours, until it was too late in the night and he finally started the engine and left. Sometimes she has wondered if she was wise, if she should have left with him that night, leave everything behind and simply forget, but she was still a child, frightened and wounded, and she didn’t know what to think of Sandor, nor wanted to worry her family.

“Nobody came to visit us after that day; no one ever asked any of my family if I was doing well, save for Jeyne and Pod. No one wanted to be related to the Starks since the report. Everybody acted as if nothing had happened, as if there wasn’t a monster in the city hall ruling this village, protecting another monster…”

“People were scared of Tywin, they’ve always been. But now the Lannisters are gone, and we are still here,” Sandor says, finally looking at her.

She grins, “Yes, we are still here, holding on, I guess.”

“When did you leave Invernalia?”

Sansa shrugged, “I finished studying from home. I was afraid of going to school, going for a walk… I was afraid of going outside my home, really.  Joffrey never stopped texting me; I don’t know what scared me most, his threats or his charming messages. I lived scared for months, until my parents decided that I should move to the city with my uncles Petyr and Lysa, to begin college. I remember preparing everything in secret and leaving with my father at night, so no one knew… It was a nightmare…”

“You didn’t deserve what happened to you. Joffrey and his family were a cancer on Invernalia, I was glad for what happened to him. People like him or my brother don’t deserve to live.”

“I guess... Anyway, that was a long time ago, but you see, I still remember everything. I still remembered _you_ ,” She smiles at him, and it’s probably the most sincere smile she has shown to him since they met last Monday. Sandor just snorts and avoids her eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but somehow she knows there is now a little crack in the wall that separates them and that maybe, _maybe_ , some air can breathe through it.

“OK, miss, it’s been a long day and there’s still work for tomorrow,” he finally says, rising from his seat. “We should get some rest.”

She agrees, she’s tired and wants to have a shower and slip inside her comfy bed. He helps her to clean the kitchen and get ready to leave.

“And no need for you to come so early tomorrow. Give me the keys; I’ll come earlier and you can sleep a little more; guess you need it.”

“Thank you Sandor. For _everything_.”

They leave without further word and when Sansa wishes him a good night, Sandor only replies with a low _night_ she can barely hear. He is the first one to start his car and soon the sound of his engine gets lost in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I guess that was my particular version of the Blackwater Bay scene in this universe; hope it hasn't dissapointed you much :P If not, I'd love to know your opinion!
> 
> More stories about that year and more nice moments together in next chapter ;)
> 
> [Picset ](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/122113193844/fields-of-gold-modern-au-sansan-fanfic-when)& [Picset](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/122358438094/fields-of-gold-chapter-6)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Salvador Dalí said that those who know how to taste; never drink wine, but  _taste secrets_. Uncorked  _secrets_ ," Sansa tells with a conspiratorial look, her glass of wine in front of her face sending reddish sparks over her features. "I already told you one of mine, so now it's your turn,  _wanderer_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many and special thanks to my beta and friend Kitamere for her help and support editing this story!! :D Is it too bad if I say that this our my favorite chapter so far? ^_^

** **

 

**THRUSDAY**

It's 9:30 in the morning when, after a long hot shower, Sansa comes down from her bedroom to have breakfast. Brienne is already there, surrounded by the familiar smells of toast and coffee that fills her kitchen in the mornings and that Sansa is beginning to like so much. Brienne's wet hair sticks to her temples which, when added to her stature and broad shoulders, gives her a boyish look that somehow suits her.

"Good morning! How was yesterday?"

"Oh, so much work! But Sandor said he can finish it today."

"Great! How was working with him? Was everything OK or did he growl too much?"

"Actually, it was fine. You were right; he's a hard worker and knows his job." Sansa thinks of their conversation last night; not that they talked too much, but that wasn't necessary, all the words that mattered were spoken. "And thank you for the dinner, Brienne, everything was delicious!"

"I just made too much food and guessed that neither of you were coming for dinner, so I thought of sending Jaime to do something useful," she replies chuckling. "Here, I've prepared freshly brewed coffee and some sandwiches for you today. Maybe you already have plans for lunch, but I bet Sandor can't make himself anything more complicated than opening a tuna can and spreading it in between two slices of bread!"

"I promise you I'll feed him properly today," Sansa grins at her, though she still feels a bit guilty for leaving him alone at home while she met with Jeyne.  _It wasn't polite on my part._ She devours her toast and takes the bag Brienne has prepared. "I'd better hurry; probably Sandor has been working since sunrise!"

After wandering around the ground floor for a while, Sansa finally finds him in one of the bathrooms upstairs. Sandor's large body is sprawled over the floor tiles; his head is hidden under the washbasin, working on some pipes. The man barely fits on the bathroom floor and Sansa almost stumbles into his feet that reach to the door.

"Good morning! I brought some coffee, want a cup?" she says, waving the thermos as an offer.

"Pass me the wrench out of my toolbox."

Sansa steps into the room and rummages in the box until she finds what she thinks he's asking for and hands it to Sandor. Fortunately it is the right thing; he hammers something somewhere down there and then screws it with the wrench before finally getting his head out and getting to his feet. A few good inches taller than she, heavy and broad-shouldered, he seems even more hulking in that small bathroom that seems suddenly too crowded. He is in his usual jeans and tight white t-shirt, his inseparable tool belt by his hip; and while he wipes his hands and explains to her that he has already fixed the shower and washbasin, she can't help but think he looks like that guy from the  _diet coke break_  ad from the 90's: the strong, good-looking worker that stops to take a break from who-knows-what kind of work and gets the whole attention of a bunch of women.(*)

"Are you listening to me, miss?" his wake-up call brings her back to reality again and she centers her gaze in another part of the bathroom.

"Ah… the shower, yes. Thank you, good job," she stammers looking around, "This used to be Arya's bath and mine. She always complained that I used it for too long, and when she grew up she got her revenge using my make-up without telling me," she grins at the simple memory and to her surprise, Sandor grins too.

"Well, at least you have happy memories from your childhood. That's good. Well, how about that coffee?"

Coffee in hand, they head to the kitchen where she pours two cups for them. Sandor keeps explaining to her about the rest of the work that's left for the day. While he lifts the cup to take a sip, Sansa realizes she is looking at his biceps and wondering whether he buys a smaller size on purpose so it highlights his muscles, or if it's simply that the guy can't find one that fits him in Invernalia's shops.  _What is wrong with you? Stop looking at him as if you haven't seen a man in your life!_  But then she recalls how Myranda would blithely be making those same comments, even aloud if she knew him, and she chuckles.

"What?" He frowns at her, oblivious to where her silly thoughts have taken her. "Something funny?"

She blushes like a silly teenager caught in a fault. "Just thinking about Brienne's lunch. She prepared us something; seems she doesn't trust in your cooking abilities."

"She doesn't, huh? Well, at least she's right about that."

"Don't worry; I'm not much of a cook either. My mum was the kitchen-master of the family and apparently I didn't inherit her skills."

"So you're not perfect after all, huh?" he murmurs, and now it's his turn to laugh and shake his head at an unspoken joke of his while he keeps sipping quietly his coffee. Sansa's mouth hangs open against her will, and she begins looking into her mug just to do something.  _No, I'm not perfect at all…_ "Fine, let's get back to work."

He is a quiet companion, professional and calm. He resumes his work on the other bathroom on the first floor, the one her brothers used, while Sansa continues cleaning a little more, trying to fight against the dust although she isn't sure she is winning the battle. After a break to eat Brienne's wonderful meal and Sandor's honest confession that those sandwiches are really much better that his, he starts working on the electric breaker box, the big one that's in the foyer, next to the entrance door. The man finally accepts her help and, standing on a chair, he asks Sansa for the tools he is going to need. Seems like the main problem is that the thing is old and has several loose and cut wires, besides it's been hanging loose from the wall since who knows when. She hands him different sizes of screwdrivers, as she watches amazed at how his big hands are able to do such a fine work with the little pieces of the box, taking them carefully and putting everything, little by little, into place. The tools look tiny in his fingers, but he works with them perfectly. He has almost finished the work and is trying to fit some wires into their right place when all of a sudden, bright sparks fly from the box.

"Dammit!" he curses, throwing the screwdriver and instinctively clutching his hand.

"Oh my god! What happened? Are you OK?"

"The damn electric current couldn't be quiet for a little longer," he hisses as he gets off the chair and looks at his hand. "It's nothing."

"Really? Let me see," Sansa reaches out to have a look at whatever damage has been caused, but Sandor closes his fist stubbornly and presses it to his chest. "Please…" She finally takes his left fist and almost has to unwrap finger by finger until she can see the wound. Though it isn't very deep, the sparks, and especially one of the wires, have taken their toll and there is a small cut on his palm, next to the index finger, from where he is bleeding. "Oh, I'm so sorry! We need to clean the wound before it gets infected."

"I said it's nothing, let's finish this," he grunts, visibly uncomfortable.

"I have a small first-aid kit in my car, I'll get it." Sansa hurries to the car as he keeps grunting against the idea, but she couldn't forgive herself if she did nothing to help him while he is working so hard on her home. She's back a few moments later with a little bag that she keeps in her car with everything she may need in case of an emergency. Sandor frowns when she urges him to go to the living room but he follows her to the table anyway, where she sits in front of him. After moistening a cotton swab with alcohol, she firmly takes his wounded hand with her left while with the other begins carefully cleaning the cut.

Sandor stills as soon as she presses the little cotton ball over his skin, his hand hard and warm between hers, and though she is focused on what she's doing, Sansa can perfectly feel his grave gaze fixed on her, as if he was trying to memorize all her movements.

"OK, that's it…" she murmurs, putting the cotton down on the table. As she is about to take a band-aid from the bag, she realizes that all she has is a box of Mickey Mouse band-aids she bought by mistake in a hurry one day when her high-heels were killing her. Determined to finish her task despite this last-minute problem, she takes one out from the box and presses it softly over Sandor's palm. Sansa holds his hand briefly in hers, her slim fingers barely reaching his wrist, and for a short tiny moment his thumb strokes her own palm and it's as if with that little touch, a little bit of the electricity spark has now passed from him to her, making her shiver. She stills, too, as she watches how he slides his hand away slowly, leaving hers empty; holding nothing but a piece of air that is even larger than his hand; somehow, missing something. And with that, the moment is gone and there is only the two of them then looking at each other in silence in a dusty living room.

"Eh, what's  _this_?" he says looking at his Mickey band-aid, "Do you think I'm still a child?"

Sansa blushes first but then bursts out laughing at the incongruent image of such a big man wearing Mickey on his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't have anything else," she tries to explain. She's still chuckling and knows he finds the situation comic too when a grin cracks on his face as he scratches his beard. "Consider it a souvenir from our mutual friend from yesterday," she dares to add smiling widely. Sandor stares gravely at her for a moment until both of them laugh loudly and her cheeks ache. It feels good to be able to have these little moments with him since they started so badly three days ago. She realizes he has a sense of humor; he doesn't look so moody when he laughs, and actually, the wrinkles that appear around his eyes when he smiles soften his expression, making him look much younger than he seems. And Sansa thinks that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to hire him.

"Fine, Mickey and I need to finish working on that electric log box, if our nurse allows it."

Sansa cocks her head thoughtfully before answering, "Yes, I think you'll survive, you can finish your job."

The afternoon passes by without further incidents and by 8 pm Sandor finally claims that everything is ready and working perfectly. Sansa claps, happy to have everything on time for tomorrow's visit for the appraisal.

"We should go have a drink to celebrate," she tells him, "We deserve it. What do you think?"

Sandor frowns again, in what seems to be his favorite expression. "Don't we need a shower first?"

She shrugs, "Well, you already fixed these showers, we can use them. Come on… There were so many great things on The Wall's menu that I haven't tried yet! And we haven't still talked about your payment. It's on me." Sansa flashes him her best smile; they have worked hard and she thinks they really deserve a rest and a glass of wine.

"I think I have another t-shirt somewhere in the van."

"Great."

 

\-----

 

Half an hour later they are sat at The Wall reading the menu. Sansa has ordered a glass of red wine and he's got a cold beer that has already been half-emptied in one gulp. After some of Val's suggestions, they decide to share four appetizers.

"I like this place." She plays with her glass making the wine twirl inside of it. "One feels at home the first time you visit it." Sandor shrugs; the place is more crowded than it was last Monday, though less so than during weekends. It's a nice bar and food is great, but the only place where he had ever felt at home is in the solitude of his own house.

"Sandor, you already need to tell me how much I owe you for your work and the materials you used. Tomorrow the appraiser comes and it's fair that you get paid."

"I need tally it up first, I'll tell you tomorrow. But don't worry about that, I'm a cheap man," he jokes.

"Hey, don't value yourself so low, Mr. Clegane. You've worked hard and even got injured!" She points at his hand, where Mickey is firmly stuck and they both chuckle. The wound still stings a little, but every time he glances at the little mouse it reminds him of how she wiped it carefully, taking his hand into hers. He liked it; Sansa being worried for him, the feeling of her fingers working over his palm, how she held it. She had never touched him before save for shaking his hand, and the feeling was new and pleasant.

Val is a sway of hips between the counter and their table when she comes with the first plates. They have barely tried the first one - artichokes sautéed with ham and white wine – when Sansa glances at the door just in time to see her friend Poole and her fiancé.

"Sansa! What a surprise!" Sansa lights up as every time she meets her friends, and when they approach them, she leaves her seat to hug Jeyne. "Sansa, this is Beric. I was so keen that you meet each other!"

"Nice to meet you, Beric, and congratulations I should say."

"The pleasure is mine, I've heard so much about you!" They shake hands and smile at each other and Sandor knows immediately she has already made a new ally in this place. He stands too; they may act like he isn't here but he was her companion tonight, and he intends to keep it that way.

"Clegane."

"Dondarrion."

The two men look at each other gravely, making it obvious that they aren't the friends there, and Sandor can see from the corner of his eye the questioning look Sansa gives Jeyne about the weird moment. The teacher simply shrugs.

"We have just begun having dinner, would you like to join us?" Sansa offers, though fortunately they decline; they have come just to pick up a take away order to eat at home.

"Sansa, we are going to the festival in Salinas on Saturday, Pod is coming too, why don't you join us? It'll be like when your father drove us there every year when we were younger, remember? We had always so much fun!"

"I haven't been to any village's festival since… well, since I left, and it really was very fun! I'd really love going with you!" Sansa exclaims, clapping. "I'll call you tomorrow ok?"

After the weekend plans and taking their meal, the couple is finally gone and they can finally resume their dinner. He has never been too good with people, but Beric Dondarrion is the last person he wanted to meet. The man is good looking; tall, tanned and with dark-brown hair, he is the provincial judge and has that way of talking and carrying himself like one who believes himself to be in possession of the absolute truth. And Sandor hates those kinds of people.

"What happened between Beric and you?" she finally dares to ask. "He seemed a nice guy."

_That's because you passed his judgment_. "Not best friends, that's all." She keeps staring at him as if trying to get what he's really thinking, but doesn't press further and dinner passes by quietly among artichokes, Iberian ham, risotto with mushrooms and sirloin steak. She praises the meal and plays with her hair, wrapping long locks around her index finger from time to time, or shoving it over her shoulder. It's easy talking with her. She is smart and funny; she listens to him, asking only the indispensable questions, and he wonders when he last held so much attention from someone who wasn't Jaime or one of his clients. Sandor realizes he is greedy for her interest, because this time it's only them, without a bunch of people around, and he feels more comfortable this way. And to his surprise she looks like she's having a good time too.

After the second drink she finally tells him about her parent's funeral and the issue makes him feel like a jerk. "You didn't have to know Sandor, nobody except for my brothers and Arya knew. I was still too scared to come here. I'm sorry for how I answered you, I should have told you."

"Don't apologize, I deserved everything you said. Never knew when to keep my mouth shut." He really means it and it's a relief to realize that she isn't angry at him for that anymore.

They are ordering their third drink when she asks him about what he did during the time he left Invernalia, taking him off guard. Sansa is waiting for his answer with her elbows on the table and her chin over her interlaced hands, like a good student listening to her lesson, though he isn't sure what to say.

"Don't know… wandering around, nothing interesting…" he looks at his beer, evading the answer. What is he going to tell her? Not that his life has been anything out of the ordinary and besides, he's not used to explaining things like that to beautiful women - not that any had cared about it before.

"Salvador Dalí said that those who know how to taste; never drink wine, but  _taste secrets_. Uncorked  _secrets_ ," she tells with a conspiratorial look, her glass of wine in front of her face sending reddish sparks over her features. "I already told you one of mine, so now it's your turn,  _wanderer_."

Sansa is smiling; her blue eyes trying to uncork his mind; and he realizes he  _really_  wants to tell her, he wants her to know him, to take a glimpse of the man he is now and remove from her mind the man she knew - the big brutish guy who worked for Tywin Lannister and who used to accompany her asshole ex-boyfriend when he treated her like shit.

"When I stepped on the accelerator and left this place I didn't even have a plan," he finally tells her, trying to find the words. "I just drove for hours in that fucking rain until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. That night I slept in the van at one side of the road and when it dawned, I just kept driving again." He sips his beer and his mind wanders along those first days far from the only place he had ever known. "I had no money and no idea where to go; I just wanted to get lost, far from this shit."

Sandor tells her that he drove until he got to the coast. He had never seen the sea before; 28 years old and hadn't gone more than 50 kilometers from Invernalia; always working, taking money home to pay the mortgage of that ruinous house their father left them, drinking on the weekends and avoiding his brother as much as possible.  _A shitty life._

"What did you do there?"

"I bought a pack of beers with the little money I had and drank it on the beach. I saw the sunset and bathed naked in the sea." She giggles and sips her wine, listening carefully to him, her cheek resting on her palm. "That night I slept on the beach and the next morning went to the harbor looking for a job. I worked unloading boxes from the fishing boats for two months, and when I got tired of smelling of fish I left for another place."

Then he had gone from one place to the next, taking different jobs and learning new ones, never staying for too long anywhere. "I met many people, saw many places, learnt a few things and made fewer friends. But it felt good to be somewhere else, far from all I had known so far."

"So you really were a wanderer, how exciting!" Sansa looks keyed-up for the story and for the first time he thinks that maybe it was really a good time in his life. He was free and that had been a good feeling. "I never travelled that much; during college I always tried to move around places I knew, afraid I'd meet someone unexpected," she explains. "Then I began to work and the office and the clients didn't leave me much spare time. Arya is the traveler of the family though; she and Gendry are always with a backpack on their backs, looking for adventures."

_The Lannister's shadow is large, even when you're far from them it seems they always manage to make you live scared,_ he thinks.

"Jeyne told me you came back when your brother died…" She speaks carefully about it and he notices that even after his death, everybody keeps speaking of Gregor cautiously, with fear, as if somehow he could still hurt them.

Sandor nods. "The public notary contacted me. They told me Gregor had been found dead and that, as his only living sibling, I had to identify the corpse and take care of the family inheritance and other papers. So I came back, signed the things they told me and got rid of the fucking old house once and for all. Now don't tell me you're sorry for my loss or some other bullshit, because I doubt it could be true."

"I wasn't going to," she says honestly. "Gregor… your brother was not a good person…"

" _Not a good person,"_  he snorts and finishes his beer in one gulp his beer. "That's the best thing one can say about him. He was a monster…"

How long has it been since the last time he talked about him? Years, probably. The man had been his personal nightmare since they were children, using his extraordinary strength and height to terrorize him until that fateful day that changed his life. Sandor must have done something to annoy him, though he has never been able to recall what. Gregor was so drunk and angry that he dragged his brother to the fireplace and shoved his head into the embers. His father could do nothing to stop him, so Gregor held his head there for what seemed hours and laughed. A day later all of Invernalia knew the tale; Gregor himself told it to whoever wanted to listen. And no one did anything; not the police, not the courts; not the mayor Tywin Lannister, who hired his brother as a reward, thereby starting his government of fear leading Invernalia's City Hall. That's how things were in that village by then, simply how Tywin Lannister said they should be, with no one saying anything against him. Sansa Stark herself had tasted that hard truth on her own many years later.

"They told me it was a drug overdose that caused his death, but when I saw the corpse it had wounds and bruises everywhere. Never cared to learn the truth of it. Whatever it was, he deserved it. Same for Joffrey and his  _friends_ …" Sandor's words feel bitter in his mouth as he is suddenly lost in memories that he thought had been buried long ago. He wants to blame her for her presence there, for digging up in all what happened. He is so lost in his mind that it isn't until after a few seconds that he notices she is touching his arm, her fingertips pressing softly over his skin, trying to get his attention from the beer jar he's holding so tight that looks like it could break between his hands.

"Sandor…" He looks at her fingers over his arm first; then lifts his gaze to her blue eyes. But if he expected to get a pitying look, he finds himself with a gentle one instead. "Sandor, they are gone. Tywin, Joffrey, Gregor, Meryn Trant, Blount, even my parents; all gone. But we are still here, remember? We are  _alive_  and we have a lifetime ahead." Sansa smiles gently, looking him in the eye, and she is suddenly a strange mix of past and present of his life in that moment. He needs all his self-control not to hold her hand in his and when she finally removes it, it is as if she takes with it shreds of the past and ancient shadows. And he realizes that maybe all that was needed was her in his life again; to open the old wound just to sew it again. He wonders if she also felt that way last night, when they talked about her own story. Maybe she did. Maybe they both have lifted that burden from their shoulders once and for all.

Before he can say anything, Sansa is ordering their fourth drink to Val. "Let's make a toast!" she proposes when the girl brings their glasses.

"A toast? What for?" he grunts.

"Don't know yet. But this moment deserves a toast." She lifts her glass of wine and lightly touches his beer jar with it. "To…" She frowns and looks around, trying to find for a moment to find the right words, "To the sea."

He laughs at her idea and she laughs with him before giving a long pull to their drinks, and then they keep laughing, tearing down a bit more the wall that was between them with such a silly thing.

"Oh, I should have made a toast to Dalí and his secrets," she then says gravely.

"Dammit Sansa, are you drunk?"

"Not yet, don't worry, though honestly I needed this." She makes circles with her index finger over the table. "Thank you." He doesn't know what the hell she's talking about and isn't sure if he wants to find out, so he asks for the check and Sansa insists on paying it.

It's almost 11:30 pm when they finally leave the bar. It's cold outside so they are walking quickly to their cars when Sansa slips on one of the stones of the pavement and has to grab his arm not to lose her balance and fall back, making one of her flats fly off her foot with the sudden movement.

"Hells, girl, you may say whatever you want, but I can't let you drive tonight. I'll take you to Brienne's."

"Sorry…" she mutters, though she doesn't release the grip on his arm as she carefully resumes walking and slides her foot in the flat again. "You don't have to; I'm fine, really…"

"Believe me,  _I have to_. Jaime and Brienne would kill me if anything happened to you, and since you can't even get to your car without stumbling, I think this is the safest way."

"It's this silly stone pavement. I've forgotten how to walk on it!" Sansa complains weakly, though she giggles again at her clumsiness, and Sandor likes it. He likes it all; her bubbles of laughter filling the night, her playful eyes, her amusing expression at the ridiculous situation, her tipsy humor, the fact that he can take care of her tonight. He chuckles too; she is funny and he doesn't remember when was the last time he was so comfortable with a woman – although probably never.

"So, first I have to save you from a mouse and now from the stones. I wonder what will be next." She is looking at him, still grinning, when he bends himself, places an arm behind her knees and another at her back and lifts her into his arms as a long  _aaaaahhh_  escapes her lips. Her shocked expression and later laughs are worth the risk that she may get angry or that any stupid neighbors see them. With her arms around his neck and her face next to his, he walks towards his van until she is safely placed in the passenger seat.

He takes his seat then and when he looks at her she has cuddled in the seat and is staring at the dashboard thoughtfully.

"So this is how it would have been if I had gone with you…" Sansa whispers. She stares at him, curious again, her auburn hair framing her features in the dim light the car provides. "What did you think that day? Your van was parked here for a long time…"

"More secrets, miss? I thought you had enough for tonight."

"I watched you the whole time," she tells him looking at her hands in her lap. "Since I heard the sound of a car parking in front of the house, I knew it was you. I'd seen this van before." Sandor stills and clenches his jaw, hands grasping the wheel firmly. He can talk about his time out of Invernalia, but he isn't sure he can bear talking about this too. Not now, not with her in his van, so close to him, in front of the Stark's House - everything so similar to what he wished had happened.  _Don't keep talking…_

"It was raining heavily and all my body still ached from the hits. I watched you from behind the curtains of my bedroom for a long time, wondering why you were there, if you were really waiting for me, to get me out that nightmare. Once I even opened my wardrobe and took a coat and a backpack but I couldn't grab the courage to fill it…"

"You did well. I was a fool, you were only a child and I only could have caused you problems," he finally manages to mutter, because it is the truth.

She shakes her head, "I was going to be 18 in a few weeks, though… I didn't really know you, Sandor. You were always with Joffrey and had barely spoken to me before. You always seemed angry and dangerous, not in the way Meryn Trant did, but… I don't know, I didn't want to live next to Joffrey anymore but couldn't go without saying anything. My family would have been worried sick…"

Sansa lifts her eyes and looks at him then, really looks and he feels the stupid urge to hold her in his arms. "I've thought about that night many times, you know? Wondering if I had been wise, taking into account what came after that. Living with my uncle Petyr and aunt Lysa wasn't  _easy_  either. Don't know… I wonder how many things would have changed…"

"Changed for the worse, you mean," he snorts. "I didn't know what I was doing that evening. I was just mad at everybody and everything and felt helpless. Want to know what I was thinking that day while I was here under the rain? I was thinking you were like those pretty birds that people have caged in their homes. Beautiful and nice, but unable to fly, unable to have a life of their own. That's what I thought while looking at your balcony and calling myself a fool."

His knuckles are white when he finally releases the wheel and turns to her. She keeps staring at him, a surprised look in her face, though she hasn't left running as he expected. Sandor lifts his hand to brush a lock of hair from her face and as she doesn't flinch at his touch he dares to let his fingers linger lightly over her cheek a little longer than he should.

"You never deserved what this village did to you, little bird."

"You neither, Sandor."

"Fine. I think we have uncorked enough secrets for one day. Let's take you home."

He starts the van and they leave, leaving behind the house, the square and the night confessions, until some minutes later they are parked in front of Brienne's house. Sansa gives him her car keys, flashes him a warm grin and a  _thank you_  before leaving the van and entering the place, and he drives back to his own, while thinking of beaches and rain, of taking her to the coast and buying a bottle of red wine and drinking it with her on his beach. He thinks on holding her when she's tired and sleeping together on the sand until dawn.

_I may be drunk too._

 

**\-----**

 

**Randa** : Sansa, are you all right? Haven't answered my messages the whole day!

**Sansa** : Sorry, I was busy. We've been working on the house

**Randa** : We?

**Sansa** : Sandor and me.

**Randa** : Sandor  _Clegane_? I thought you two hated each other…

**Sansa** : ….

**Randa** : Sansa...

**Sansa** : Things got better, we had dinner. He drove me home. We talked and drank.

**Randa** : Dinner? Wine? Dear, are you drunk?

**Sansa** : No! Just… we talked,  _really_  talked about… you know…

**Randa** : oh sweetie, are you ok? You said you had only told that story to me; that nobody knew…

**Sansa** : I know, I know, but it was fine. It was a relief in fact. And we laughed a lot, it was a nice evening. I think he's funny in his own way. I almost fell but he carried me to his van and then brushed my face… you know he has travelled a lot?

**Randa** : HOLY MOTHER OF MERCY. Miss Stark, you're drunk and you have a crush!

**Sansa** : WHAT? NO!

**Randa** :  _He carried me into his strong arms and I wrapped my arms around him while the night surrounded us. Oh Myranda, it was so, SO romantic…_

**Sansa** : Stop it you dumb! XD I go to bed, I'm tired. Night!

**Randa** : Call me tomorrow and tell me EVERYTHING you dummy. 

 

Sansa knows she is probably red as an apple now but can't help the grin on her face as she slides under the duvet. It's been an intense, long day, and she falls asleep quickly, thinking of beaches and Mickey band-aids, of glasses of red wine and ancient stone houses, of long roads across never ending fields of wheat and sunflowers that end in the sea...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*) [Diet Coke ad.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1bsFn0F5vI) If you remember it, it's because you're at least as old as me XD 
> 
>  Also, if anyone is interested, I made a post on tumblr about my headcanons for this story. You can read it [here](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/122938016034/the-headcanons-nobody-ask-for).
> 
> Edit: If you are curious about Sansa and Sandor's dinner, you can take a look at it [here ](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/123569911909/sansa-and-sandors-dinner)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor has never waited for a girl to get ready to meet him. In fact, he wonders if anyone has ever gotten ready just for him. But there he is, leaning against the counter of Brienne’s kitchen unable to take his eyes off the stairs that lead to Sansa’s bedroom, nervous like a teenager on a date and cursing his luck for finding Jaime at home and having to bear his mocking perfect grin.

** **

 

**FRIDAY**

“Jesus girl, you look awful!”

Jaime and Brienne look at her, amused, from the counter of the kitchen while Sansa drags her feet to sit on a stool next to them and holds back a yawn.

“Really?” It’s true that she hasn’t changed out of her pajamas yet and her hair is a messy bun on top of her head, but somehow she hoped she didn’t look as bad.

“Here, take this,” Brienne passes her a big glass of fresh orange juice and an aspirin. Jaime has to hold in a chuckle while pretending to be busy with something else around the kitchen.

“H-how did you know…” she stammers between sips of juice. It’s sweet and fresh and all she needs to begin the day properly.

“Sandor came early this morning driving your car. Said he drove you here last night and that you may need something for a headache,” Brienne explains to her with a grin.

“A hard night, huh?” Jaime teases her as Sansa feels how her cheeks are burning with embarrassment. “Don’t worry, anyone who has spent more than an hour alone with Sandor ends up feeling bad.”

“It was fine,” she smiles, remembering last night. “We had dinner and talked. It was a nice evening in fact.” She takes another sip of the glass but notices that Jaime and Brienne have stopped doing whatever they were doing and are eyeing her curiously.  “What?”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same person? You know, the big guy with long hair and scarred face that he uses to groan a lot,” Jaime says, eyebrows raised and a strange look on his handsome face. She nods, not knowing what else to say. “Because I think he hasn’t had dinner alone with a girl in… well, never?”

“Hey you, he comes to have dinner with me sometimes when you’re travelling!” Brienne complains weakly, though she is chuckling too and Sansa knows she also finds the situation funny.

“That doesn’t count, you’re _my_ girl.”  Jaime kisses her making her smile widen.

“Well, it isn’t so rare; we already knew each other…” Sansa mutters in an attempt to not make a big deal of it.  “And…” _he took me in his arms and made me laugh_ , “I like his sense of humor.”

“Dear, I think your guest must need more aspirin because she doesn’t know what she’s saying!” Jamie jokes. “I better leave you two alone; this morning there is too much insanity for me in this house!”

“Don’t take him seriously Sansa,” Brienne tells her once her boyfriend has left the house. “It’s just, you know, we are not used to hearing the words ‘Sandor,’ ‘humor’ and ‘nice’ in the same phrase.”

“I get it, don’t worry,” she giggles. Her orange juice is finished and she realizes she’s still hungry, but there isn’t time for a proper breakfast because she has to meet the appraiser in an hour. “But believe me, it was nice. We deserved a rest after working so hard these past few days. And, no matter what he told you, I wasn’t drunk!” Brienne’s laughter finally adds to hers.

“Come on, go have a shower, I’ll prepare you some coffee to take with you.”

Sansa gets up to leave but not before kissing her friend on the cheek.  “You’re the best.”

\-----

Neatly dressed in one of her work suits with matching black stilettos and coffee in hand, she arrives again at her house. The appraiser is already waiting for her, leaning on a black car parked on the street. The man looks professional with his dark suit and his file of papers, and after a handshake and a brief introduction, Sansa leads him inside the house. It takes him one hour to go over the whole place; checking everything, measuring walls, rooms and heights, taking notes on his papers and inspecting everything with critical eye.

“Fine, Ms. Stark, I think I have all the information I need to make my report,” he finally states.

“How have you found the house?  Do you think we can get a good deal for it?”

“A stately house like this one of your family’s, and in such good condition, ready to move, well, I think you won’t have any problem selling it for a very interesting price. I’ll send the report to the real estate agency and they’ll contact you with the next step of the process. And don’t worry; you won’t have any problem finding a good buyer for it.”

With a wide grin, Sansa finally says goodbye to the man and gets into the car again.  Everything is going as planned, and she knows she has to thank Sandor for the hard work; if the house is ready to move it’s just because he made it possible. She is so happy that she is looking forward to sharing the good news with him. Sansa realizes she could simply call him from Brienne’s, but it’s a nice morning and they have the issue of his payment still pending. At least, that’s the excuse she tells to herself as she slides her sunglasses over her nose and drives to his house, though not before calling Robb to explain to him how everything is going. Her brother congratulates her for the good job and agrees to meet her next week in the city to talk with the agency, something that makes her even happier, because it’s been months since the last time she saw him.   _And that’s what I call the perfect way to start a day,_ she thinks as she turns on the CD player and Diana Krall fills the car with her beautiful voice

It takes her two songs to arrive at Sandor’s house. The place looks quiet and, as she walks toward the door, she prays not to wake him up again like last Tuesday; though she then remembers that he drove her car to Brienne’s early this morning.

 _“BACK HERE!”_ She hears him shouting when she’s about to ring the doorbell. Sansa walks to the back of the house, where Sandor is squatting next to a big black motorcycle, his inseparable tool box with him, working on something of the engine.

“Good morning!”

“Hey, I thought it was Jaime,” he says, rising and grabbing a piece of cloth to clean his hands. He has changed his usual white t-shirt for a black one, matching the vehicle he is working on; both of them big, hard and solid, though he isn’t any less impressive out of the work environment. “How’s your head?”

“Fine, thank you. I didn’t know you had a motorcycle!” Sansa says excited while she walks next to them.

“You wouldn’t think that after all this time working I had only managed to pay for that old van. That’s just for work, this babe is for pleasure,” he replies patting the seat and caressing proudly the handlebars, “my Triumph Bonneville; earned with sweat and hard work.” He talks gently about it, and it’s kind of moving to see how proud he is of his _babe_.

“It’s impressive! I’m sure any of my brothers would love to have one like this. Even Arya! Her boyfriend has one, but it isn’t anywhere near as cool as yours.”

“Anyway, guess you didn’t come to talk about motorcycles, did you?”

“Oh no, I’ve just come from my meeting with the appraiser. He said everything was perfect and that we could get a very good deal of the house,” Sansa explains with a wide grin. “I wanted to thank you again, because part of it is because of your help.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing…”

“And also, thank you for driving my car back home this morning, Brienne told me. You didn’t have to.”

Sandor stares at her and nods, visibly uneasy with so much kindness and smiles. The two of them stand silent at either side of the motorcycle, and Sansa shifts her weight from one foot to the other and looks around the place, not knowing what else to say now that she has chirped all her _thank yous_ , though somehow not able to leave yet.

“I was planning on going for a ride through the countryside, maybe having lunch outdoors,” he finally breaks the ice, choosing the words carefully. “Wanna come?”

Sansa blinks behind her sunglasses; taken by surprise at the sudden invitation and oddly pleased that he has asked her to accompany him.  It’s been too long since she has visited the surroundings of Invernalia, and they look beautiful at this time of the year.

“Maybe you’ve already planned to meet your friend for lunch, forget it,” he grunts and gets back to thoroughly cleaning his hands, as if ashamed of his offer, or maybe because she is delaying her answer.

“I’d love to. Really,” she finally replies nodding enthusiastically, “I didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day in fact.” _Save for checking boring work emails and working endlessly on them as if this wasn’t my week off_. The corners of his lips twitch into a smile at her words and she can already feel the thrill that means riding on his motorcycle along dirt roads through endless fields with him, maybe having a picnic and watching the sunset... “Though I’d better change my clothes if you don’t mind waiting…” she manages to say before she begins blushing at her previous thoughts.

“Fine, go change out of your _men in black_ costume. I’ll pick you up at Jaime’s house in half an hour. Ah, and change those shoes too,” he teases with a smirk pointing at her perfectly clean black stilettos.

“Hey, this is one of my best working outfits, don’t mess with it!” she complains, though she is already smiling at the childish joke, because she knows he’s right.

\-----

Sandor has never waited for a girl to get ready to meet him.  In fact, he wonders if anyone has ever gotten ready just for him. But there he is, leaning against the counter of Brienne’s kitchen unable to take his eyes off the stairs that lead to Sansa’s bedroom, nervous like a teenager on a date and cursing his luck for finding Jaime at home and having to bear his mocking perfect grin.

“So, explain it to me again because I don’t think I understand,” Jaime teases him. ”You and Sansa are going to spend the day out together, without any kind of work as excuse. On your motorcycle.  The motorcycle you never let me drive.”

“Should I remind you that you lack one hand, Lannister? Guess that has something to do with it, too.”

“I’d say that what I lack are those long legs and perfect body of hers!” he chuckles, openly pleased with the opportunity to tease his friend. “Well, I don’t blame you, the girl is a beauty and she clearly has a soft spot for you…”

 _A soft spot for ugly guys? That I can bear_.

“I’m glad you two are getting along better,” Jaime explains, his voice serious now. “And I know Sansa is great, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up on her. She’s just here for a few days and then she’ll be back to her life, to her job and her friends.”

“So what?” Sandor snorts, silently praying for her to come down already so they can leave.He already feels awkward enough with everything that’s happening to hold up to Jaime’s speeches.

“So then you’ll remain here, cursing your luck, moody and lonely again, longing for days like this.” Sandor knows he’s eyeing him, trying to figure out his expression, but his gaze is glued to the steps from where she should come down. He already knows damn well what will happen, knows Jaime is simply trying to warn him about the inevitable. Though the harm is probably already done, day out with her or not, so why bother?

 “Listen, Jeyne says she is dating someone…”

Sandor snorts trying to end the conversation, he doesn’t want to talk about it - _Not now, not today -_ and it seems that finally Jaime yields, shrugging his shoulders, just a moment before Sansa gets trotting into the kitchen.

“Sorry for the delay, I had a work call that couldn’t wait for later,” she excuses herself.  Although her jeans, low boots and tank top are more appropriate clothing for the day, Sandor somehow misses the outfit she was wearing that morning. The masculine cut suit with high heels and ponytail gave her a professional look, like the lawyer she works as now, and it was strange to see Sansa in that light, to have a glimpse at her current life. It made him think of offices, high buildings, meetings with clients and fancy restaurants, and how oddly _sexy_ she looked in that suit. He wonders how many of her colleagues think that way too when they see her, and after a brief thought he decides he doesn’t like them at all. _Bugger you, city boys, today she is mine, at least for a few hours._

“It’s fine, let’s go.”

“Enjoy yourself, guys!” Jaime says, winking an eye at him before they leave the house.

The motorcycle is parked outside, next to Sansa’s car. Sandor hands her a helmet and gets on it, starting the engine. The machine roars between his legs as he keeps it firmly in place and waves his head at Sansa inviting her to get on too. She climbs carefully on the seat behind him, placing her hands gently over his shoulders.

“Hold on tight, little bird, I don’t want you to come flying off at the first pothole we catch on the road.”

“I’m ready,” she replies over his shoulder. Sandor rotates his right wrist several times on the handlebar, making the motorcycle’s engine roar, and speeds off, leaving Brienne’s house behind in seconds. Sansa’s hands leave her place over his shoulders to wrap tight around his waist as soon as they get a bit of speed and come into the road. _That’s better_ , he grins as he feels her body pressed against his back.

He drives down the main road that leads to the village that he knows so well, until they leave Invernalia behind. It’s a sunny day and it’s good to feel the fresh air against his skin, the smell of the fields and the grass, her warmth so close to him, her arms around his body. Three kilometers later he turns to the left to take a dirt road that spreads from the main road into a barley field. The short tan crop plants accompany them at both sides of the road for a while, spotted here and there by bunches of poppies and daisies, until they give way to a row of poplars flanking the road he’s driving on. Sandor points from time to time to something he wants her to notice; a singular ancient tree, a ruined building or a lazy cow grazing. Sansa nods over his shoulder, her loose hair tickling Sandor’s neck softly, and she laughs and squeals each time the motorcycle takes a pothole or a little slope and the wheels lift from the ground for a few seconds until they hit it again.

Every now and then, he shoots her little glances over his shoulder, to make sure she’s still there and hasn’t vanished like a dream, and keeps driving, enjoying the freedom of the moment and being far from everything and everyone, except for her. He turns to the right and they run along the banks of a river – though it doesn’t carry much water on that season of the year - to finally cross it by a Roman bridge that miraculously still stands after so many centuries. There is an ancient hermitage on the other side, almost ruined and forgotten, built for who knows what purpose so far from any inhabited place, and it’s there where Sandor finally kills the engine.

Sansa takes off her helmet and gets off the motorcycle, gazing around curiously. “I’ve never been here before!”

It certainly has a kind of decadent charm, that place; so many years of history almost forgotten and ruined, its stones claimed by vines and moss now. “Not very popular, I guess, though Jaime usually brings some tourists here when they are doing long walks around the countryside,” he explains. “The way he tells it, the hermitage was built by a religious order in the fifteenth century and it was abandoned only a hundred years later due to an epidemic that spread along the region and decimated the population. Though who knows, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had made it all up!”

“It’s a beautiful place, thanks for bringing me here.”

“Hungry?” he asks as he parks the motorcycle next to a tree.

“I’m starving! I haven’t eaten anything today except for the orange juice with the aspirin...”

“Well, then I guess today you finally are gonna be able to tell if Brienne’s sandwiches are better than mine,” Sandor tells her with a smirk. He raises the seat of the motorcycle, taking a bag from a small space that’s under it, and Sansa is already smiling and clapping, excited at the idea of a picnic there.

She helps him to spread a blanket he has also bought in the shade of a tree and they sit on it cross legged next to one another, facing the bridge and the church.  Not that he has prepared a big meal; Brienne is right, he isn’t a good cook at all, but he has tried his best, since he was going to share them with Sansa. Not that she has anything else to eat though.

“This is my specialty, as you already know: tuna with roasted red pepper.”

“Delicious!” she grants him, and he chuckles watching how bread, pepper and tuna disappear in seconds. “What else do you have?”

They share the rest of the sandwiches – fresh tomato and ham, cheese and turkey – eating comfortably in silence, listening to the flowing water, the birds chirping and the leaves rustling with the breeze above them. It’s relaxing and the silence isn’t awkward, isn’t something that needs to be filled with polite talk and questions. It’s easy being with her.

When they are done, they clean the blanket and he leans back against the tree trunk, his long legs stretched before him, inhaling deeply the fresh air again. Sansa sits again too and lies down, her hands behind her head, though as soon as her head touches the ground it hits a hidden stone making her to raise again hurriedly, “Ouch!”

Sandor laughs aloud at her clumsiness, winning a deep frown and she sticks out her tongue in his direction. “Hey, it hurts!” she complains, rubbing the back of her head.

“Guess there aren’t so many _traps_ in the city parks, uh?” he jokes. “Come here,” he tells her patting his thighs. Sansa looks at him from above in surprise, probably as shocked as he is by his own boldness. _Now is when she leaves running_. However, it seems he hasn’t spent all his luck that day, because after a few seconds, she finally sits to his left and carefully lies down until her head is gently placed over his lap. He feels her breathing deeply and then she crosses one foot over the other. “Mmmm…” she sighs, “yeah, definitely better than that _mean_ stone.” She turns her face and winks an eye at him, and Sandor chuckles again making her head move up and down.

And there he is; comfortably sitting in one of his favorite spots, with Sansa Stark quietly lying on his lap, eyes closed and hands resting over her belly. He should pinch himself to know if he’s dreaming or not, because this is all he wished for, long ago. Though maybe it was necessary for all these years to pass to get to this moment. _Well, it was damn worth it._

“I like this place,” she says. “Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes. When I’m tired of the village and want to be alone.”

“I wish I could have these moments of calm where I live too, though lately I feel that I only dedicate myself to work…” she sighs. Sandor watches her from his privileged position, how her face, dotted now by thousands of little freckles because of the sun, seems to have saddened. He tries to think of something to say, but as usual, his big mouth runs faster than his mind and before he can stop it he is already giving voice to a thought that, much to his dismay, hasn’t left him since this morning.

“What about your boyfriend?”

Sansa stills for a moment and then rises to look him in the face frowning, leaving an emptiness on his lap, “Who told you that?”

 _There is always a guy, you idiot_.

“You know, people talk… this is a small place.” He shrugs trying to sound careless, but knows he is probably faking the words and making her uncomfortable.

“This is a gossiping place, you should say.” She doesn’t seem angry but disappointed, as if the matter wasn’t something she likes to talk about. “I don’t know if there’ll be a boyfriend when I come back. Sometimes I wonder if there is any at all…”

“Why do you say that? Is he like Joffrey?”

“Oh no! He is nice and very polite. He has never treated me like Joff. He works at the same company as me,” she explains, sitting cross legged next to him, looking elsewhere. “He is one the sons of the owner of the law firm. Smart, brilliant, hard worker… he lives for the job and spends many hours working at the office.”

Sandor listens to her talking about that guy and wonders what in the seven hells happens with him.

“He wants me to follow him, to make a career on his family’s firm, earning promotions quickly…” she shakes her head staring at his lap, “I don’t know…”

“Why? Seems like a good job.”

“I guess it is. Our clients are the some biggest and most important companies in the country. The problem is that I didn’t become a lawyer to work for big companies; they already have enough money to pay for thousands of Garlan Tyrells if they wish, and their kind of problems aren’t what really interest me. I studied law because I wanted to help people, real people with real problems. To give legal advice and help women who are in the same situation I was in with the Lannisters.” She finally looks at him with a shy grin, as if embarrassed of her own aspirations. “Does this make any sense?”

It does. It fucking does. If there had been someone like her in Invernalia back then, the turns for her and Joffrey would have been very different. He nods. “So you don’t know how to tell the guy that you don’t really want to work for them any longer.”

 “Yes, that’s part of it. He’s so involved in the office and so passionate about me following his steps that he doesn’t understand...”

“And the other part?” He dares to ask, though isn’t sure if he wants to know more about this _Garlan_ who, having the luck to be with her, doesn’t know how to make her happy.

Sansa hesitates before speaking, her gaze fixed on her lap once again and her voice so low he barely hears her. “Ten days ago he asked me to move to his apartment, to go live with him. I told him I wasn’t sure, that I needed time to think about it… I haven’t given him an answer yet…”

That was new; the little bird doesn’t want to live with the smart lawyer. The question is if she knows it too, or is simply fooling herself about the matter.

“So, you chose to put land in between you two, coming back here after six years, rather than facing him with a no?”

“No!” She opens her mouth to complain, frowns and blinks looking for words, but isn’t able to say anything more. _Nailed it, Clegane_. “It isn’t so easy, Sandor. It’s not… not like I had many dates and boyfriends since Joff, you know? I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Move in with him then,” _and be unhappy again._

“I like living with my friend Myranda…”

“Well, she must be really impressive if you like her better than that Garlan.”

“She is!” Sansa smiles again at the mention of her friend for the first time since they touched the subject, her eyes sparkling and bright. She seems relieved to change the topic of the conversation and to Sandor’s surprise; she lies again carefully on the ground resting her head on his lap – from where it had never should have gone.

“I met her during my first year of college,” she explains. She looks relaxed now, her eyes closed and one foot over the other again, and Sandor enjoys of the pleasure of listening to her and watching her long hair spread over his thighs. “I really wasn’t a very open person back then, you know, but she was resolved to become my friend and I couldn’t help but yield to her charms. By that time, living with my uncle and aunt was becoming difficult; uncle Petyr made me feel… _uncomfortable_ and aunt Lysa was mad at me all the time. So when my parents died and we got some money from the insurance company, I left their house and rented a two bedroom apartment with Myranda. She is so full of life! She taught me that despite everything that I had gone through, life was still worth living. Randa is the only person from my actual life that knows everything that happened to me here. She can be very bold if she wants, but I couldn’t live without her. The way my brothers live, every man for himself… I guess that in a way she has become family too.”

Sansa is smiling now, recalling that friend of hers, in a way she didn’t when speaking of her _boyfriend_ , and even without meeting her, Sandor likes the girl.

When she finishes talking, Sandor pats her shoulder clumsily, and her right hand moves to stroke slightly his for a short moment before returning to her belly. They remain in silence then, letting the evening breeze caress their faces, his thumb still circling lazily over her shoulder.  Sansa dozes off for a while and he lets her be, watching how her chest rise and fall rhythmically and counting the new freckles of her cheeks.  Sandor thinks then about that guy from her office, working night and day without bothering to learn the real wishes and ambitions of the girl he’s with. He thinks about the aunt and uncle that seem out of a creepy movie, of what is left of her family, scattered who knows where, and feels the overwhelming urge to hug her, to protect her, to make her notice that she can also trust him, because they both share an ugly past but have survived it. He realizes that maybe these are the same feelings he had when he tried to take her away with him six years ago, only that now he doesn’t scare her anymore and she has decided to spend the day with him, to share with him her problems and her wishes. _What makes you think that she’ll let you in her life, you fool? Once she leaves Invernalia she’ll go back to her job and her roommate and she’ll forget you,_ a tiny voice reminds him, but for now, he tosses those thoughts aside.

It’s the sound of her phone what finally wakes her up. Rubbing her eyes, she rises hurriedly to look for the thing on her purse and answer it with thick voice.

“Jeyne! How are you?... Mmmm yes, I didn’t have lunch at Brienne’s today…. Uh-huh…. Sure! Count on me!... Great, I’ll pick you, Beric and Pod tomorrow at… 12pm?... Perfect!... See you, bye!”

“I’m sorry I fell asleep for a while,” she apologizes, still rubbing her eyes. “It seems I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“Wonder why…”

“That was Jeyne. I’ll pick them up tomorrow to go the festival in Salinas. Would you like to come with us?”

Sandor has already risen from the ground and is folding the blanket “Me? I haven’t missed anything in that village,” he grunts. He isn’t very good at those kinds of parties, with music in the streets, cheerful people, and a crowd dancing in the main square; and less if Beric Dondarrion is going to be around.

“We can invite Jaime and Brienne too…” He is certain Jaime would love the plan, and Brienne would welcome a bit of fun too, but he still hesitates. She cocks her head and looks at him with pleading eyes, “Oh, come on Sandor, it’ll be fun!”

He may not like those events, but the prospect of spending one more day next to her is too tempting. An _OK_ slips from his lips before he can do anything to avoid it and she lights up, oddly happy for having him as ugly companion for one more day.

“Great! I promise I won’t leave you alone with Beric,” Sansa teases him with a smirk as she hurries to text Brienne to tell her, and Sandor wonders if there is anything she can’t get from him with a smile or a gentle look – and probably there isn’t.

“OK, little bird, now let’s go before the sun finishes burning your neck,” he says pointing at the back of her neck and shoulders, where the sun has taken its toll on her pale skin, turning it reddish. She turns her neck to look at it and touches it carefully. Her fingertips leave white spots on the skin where she presses and, by the grimace on her face, it seems it also stingsher a little. “Guess it was the breeze, you should apply after-sun over it.”

“I don’t have any; I never thought I’d need it for these days. Dammit! I should have bought a jacket at least!”

“I have, at home. Can lend you if you want.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m sorry… seems I’ve forgotten everything about living in the country. Arya would mock me so much!”

Sandor chuckles and soon they are riding again along the road that leads to his house, Sansa’s arms firmly wrapped around him and her cheek pressed on his back.

_This may not be such a bad day after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ermit where they spend the day [(X)](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/124011877544/fields-of-gold-chapter-8-sandor-drives-down-the) It's in Tobera (Burgos, Spain)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor wonders if her mouth would taste of red wine if she allows him access to it.

 

Sandor’s t-shirt smells clean. Sansa breathes in the fabric, her cheek pressed against Sandor’s back as they ride along a dirt road to his house. As they aren’t wearing the helmets during this part of the journey, she lets the wind hit her face while her nose is filled with all the smells of the fields around them, and his own. Sansa clings to his body, strong and solid, as he drives the motorcycle between trees and brushes this time - legs against his thighs, chest against his back and arms firmly wrapped around him. And she feels comfortable and safe.  

She is really enjoying the day, so quiet and peaceful, far from work, noisy streets and family problems, and she really feels free and careless for the first time in months. As awkward as it could have seemed five days ago, Sansa has realized that talking with Sandor is easy. Words flow naturally from her when he’s listening; his thoughtful grey eyes always looking into hers, following all her words without judging - and she likes that.

Maybe that’s why she told him about Garlan, because she really doesn’t know why she felt the need to open up about him. It was a shock for her to realize that she hadn’t thought of him since she arrived in Invernalia, except for that phone call she got from him on Wednesday which she didn’t have the courage to answer. Sansa had asked him for _time_ ; time to think, time in Invernalia to deal with her family business, time off work, time for them. It’s true that Garlan Tyrell is a great guy; intelligent, polite, handsome and hard worker. Such a hard worker, that she sometimes wonders if he ever leaves the office at night and can’t recall when was the last time they did something fun together. What did Arya call him when she met him? _The boring guy in the grey suit._ And she knows Myranda thinks so too, though her friend loves her too much to say it aloud; she prefers to tease her about meeting new guys every time they hang out. Sansa has tried many times to talk with him about her wishes for the future, but she was always interrupted by a work call, an appointment, or a meeting with clients. The only time she dared to tell him she was thinking about working for a smaller law office, he simply dismissed her idea with a wave of his hand, “ _Don’t talk nonsense, Sansa. Your future lies at Tyrell & Associates, you know that.” _And with that, the conversation was over. Sandor hasn’t dismissed her ideas as foolishness, nor has he laughed at her. He has listened thoughtfully as she speaks, as if what she was telling him was the most important matter in the world – and for her it was. It was her future she was talking about; her dreams and aspirations, things that her supposed _boyfriend_ never had enough time to talk with her.

Sandor now drives along the road flanked by cypresses that she saw last Tuesday, the one that leads to his house. They are there a few minutes later, and Sansa gets off the motorcycle as it comes to a stop at the back of his house. There is a back porch she hadn’t noticed before, with a wooden bench and a table at one side and some chairs on the other. Sandor is already climbing the steps that lead to the porch and opening the back door when he nods his head to urge her to follow him inside.

Sansa hesitates for some seconds before following him. Five days ago she barely knew anything about him and now she’s bursting into his house? She feels like she is stepping into his life, and wonders if she should take that step, if she wants to cross another line in their newly found friendship. Sandor is waiting, his hand on the door knob inviting her in, and it’s the sudden realization that she does want to share that glimpse of his intimacy he’s offering what shocks her the most when, expectant and nervous, she finally walks after him.

Sansa didn’t know what to expect of his place before, but she certainly didn’t expect that she would like it immediately. Despite sharing stone walls and wooden beams, Sandor’s home isn’t like Brienne’s, a traditional place; it’s a modern one. The back door leads to a wide open room that takes up almost the entire ground floor; parquet on the floor, clean lines and white furniture as the main patterns of the simple decoration. The kitchen is at the left, with a modern counter with stools separating it from the rest of the place; and to its right is a big living room with a large white couch, a low table, and a matching white modular cabinet with a flat TV screen and a shelf full of books and CDs. The ceiling is high and, and behind the couch there is a staircase leading to a kind of platform that serves as first floor. From where Sansa is, she can see the corner of a bed, and there is so much light coming through all the windows…

Sandor rummages for a while in what must be the bathroom until he returns with a bottle of after-sun cream in hand. “Sit down,” he instructs, pointing at one of the stools. Sansa does as she’s told while she places her hair up in a high bun and keeps her back straight waiting for him to apply the cream. It feels refreshing and good over her sore red skin; however, it’s feeling Sandor’s big hands on her what makes her shiver from head to toes. Sansa feels his calloused fingers moving from her neck to her shoulders and then along her shoulder blades as he spreads the product, gently massaging the parts the sun has burnt. He repeats the movement again with a steady hand and she closes her eyes then, reducing her world just to his hands over her, getting lost in the pleasant feeling. When he rubs the back of her neck with his thumbs, the sensation runs from her neck to the rest of her body making her shudder.

“Did I hurt you?”

Sansa shakes her head and can barely whisper a _no_ as he resumes his ministrations. Her head hangs loosely to her chest and she slowly lets go of her breath between her lips. She wonders what kind of power he is able to hold over her if, simply by touching her shoulders and neck, he can undo her in such a powerful way… wonders how his hands would feel when caressing other parts of her body, how much would he still be able to make her shiver…

“Fine, that’s it,” he says when he finishes his task. Sansa finally raises her head and opens her eyes, trying to regain her composure, breathing deeply before turning on the stool to face him.

“Thank you, it feels better,” she manages to murmur with a shy grin.  “Hope the skin doesn’t peel off tomorrow…”

“It won’t,” he replies, a grin over his lips as he watches her blushing. Sansa finally stands and looks around, trying to fill the silence that has settled between the two of them for some moments.

“I like your place,” she says. “It’s nice and so bright, and different from the rest of Invernalia’s houses.”

“I guess,” he replies shrugging. “Not that I know much about decoration, just wanted something simple, wide and bright. And a place outside to sit in the evening.”  He points at the porch.  “I did most of the work by myself after buying the house.”

“Wow, that’s impressive!”

“If you say so…” Sandor rubs his beard and chuckles as he walks behind the counter. “Mmm… want a drink? I have red wine…”

Sansa nods without even thinking about it; she still has the feeling of his touch along her neck and already longs for sharing more time with him, not wanting the evening to end yet. She likes his company and it seems he likes hers too, so why not enjoy a little more of their company? She begins undoing her bun, letting her long hair again cover her shoulders and back, while Sandor takes a bottle of wine out of a small wine fridge he has in one of the corners of the kitchen. He uncorks it and pours two glasses, sliding one over the counter to Sansa.

“I thought you were more a beer person.”

“Most of the time, but I also enjoy a good wine from time to time, if the moment is worth it,” he says, taking his glass with one hand and the bottle in the other and walking outside.  Sansa takes hers and follows him to the back porch and they sit on the steps of the porch, next to each other.

“Jaime gave me this bottle,” Sandor tells her, showing her the label on it. “Like a year ago he decided to sack his father’s wine cellar. He said it was too bad that such good wines were lost to oblivion; that we should enjoy and drink them to Tywin.”  He snorts at the memory of the man while Sansa nurses her drink, making the purple liquor whirl inside the glass, and then lifts it to her nose. “Don’t drink it yet; it’s twelve years old so you need to let it _breathe_ first for a while before it gets its full taste. Then you can enjoy it properly.”

“I didn’t know you know so much about wine. You’re full of surprises, Mr. Clegane.”

“Well, there are many things you still don’t know about me, little bird.”

She peeks at him from the corner of her eye and sees him grinning playfully. His voice is low now, and despite the grin and his lively tone, she thinks that in that moment she could perfectly burn under his gaze. Sansa bites her lower lip, blinks a few times and finally turns to watch the beautiful landscape that spreads in front of them, wondering how many things she has yet to know about Sandor, and realizing that she wouldn’t mind learning them all. _What’s happening to you, girl?_ she scolds herself as his shoulder brushes hers when he moves to spread his long legs in front of him, giving her goosebumps.

“How did you two become friends? Jaime and you. You seem so different!”

“Yes, the beauty and the beast,” Sandor laughs.“We knew each other since I worked for Tywin, although we never talked much back then. Jaime was traveling most of the time and only came to Invernalia from time to time. He never got along well with his father, so it wasn’t until Joffrey died and Tywin decided to leave the village that Jaime moved here. Jaime came some months before the Lannisters left, to take care of their houses and all. Then he called me to do some work on their house, we realized that we shared little love for Joffrey and Tywin, we had a few drinks, and well, I guess I haven’t gotten rid of him since then.”

“I like him, and I never thought I’d like any Lannister!”

“Yeah, me neither…” Sandor says sighing, as if regretting it. Sansa giggles and he joins her, filling the evening with laughs and good mood. She glimpses again those wrinkles around his eyes that only appear when he is comfortable and smiles, and she decides she’d like to see them more often.

“Fine, I think we can taste the wine now.”  They take their glasses again and they both lift them as in an imaginary toast, bringing them to their lips at the same time. “Damn Tywin! Too bad that choosing good wine was his only virtue!”

“Mmmm, it’s really good!”

“Hells, it is. We should sack his wine cellar more frequently!”

Sansa giggles again and sips her glass. Somewhere beyond the line of the horizon, the sun is disappearing little by little and it’s going to be dark soon. Though from where they are you can’t see a proper sunset, the view is not any less stunning for it. It’s the colors of Invernalia’s evening sky what fills the moment with magic. The sky changes gradually from bright blue to red, to orange and to different shades of gold, even a soft pink, dyeing the landscape that spreads in front of them with those vivid hues. The road that leads to Sandor’s house is dimming too, until is difficult to make out its end. The sight is beautiful and so captivating that neither of them talks for a long time; they simply sit next to each other, quietly sipping their glasses and enjoying that precious moment together.

“You are very lucky, Sandor; the view from here is gorgeous,” she says when Sandor moves to refill their glasses.

“I know.” His hair hangs loosely at both sides of his face, covering the worst part of his scars and he has turned to stare at her again with that gaze he has when looking at her that takes her breath away. Sansa doesn’t know then if he’s talking about the sunset or about her, but feels her cheeks growing red and smiles at him anyway - pleased and flattered by his words and his interest all day. A breath of wind moves his hair and she fights the sudden urge to lift her hand, brush it from his cheek and place it behind his hear. She represses it though, not knowing how he’ll react if she dares to touch his face. She realizes that it’s long since she last noticed his scars; not that they are so visible now with the beard, but she has really forgotten them. She wonders if he ever does that too; to forget they are there, although somehow she knows he never will.

It’s getting a bit cold outside once the sun is gone and another breath of wind makes her shiver.

“I forgot how cold it could be at night in the countryside even though the day has been sunny…” she excuses herself as she rubs her arms and hugs herself.

“Yeah, wait here,” Sandor tells her. He stands and walks inside as she waits alone, watching how the last colors of the sky fade into the horizon. A couple of minutes later Sansa hears the sound of his boots stepping outside again. He squats then behind her and drapes a denim jacket over her shoulders. Sansa gets her arms through the longs sleeves, the big jacket swallowing her up in a warm embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispers, turning her face over her shoulder to meet his eyes. Sandor nods and sits on a step behind her, a leg on each side of her body, spreading his arms along Sansa’s. She feels overwhelmed, engulfed by his cloth and his body, surrounded by his smell, his warmth, and his imposing presence, and she feels small against his body, small but at ease, comfortable inside that space of protection he has created for her.

Sansa leans back until her back is against his chest, her head leaning on his shoulder. Sandor is brushing gently her arms, protecting her from the cool night, though he doesn’t seem to mind the cold because he’s still only wearing his black t-shirt.

“Better now?” he murmurs in her ear, his beard tickling against her skin and sending butterflies to her stomach - and she can simply nod.

_Yes. I’m better than I’ve been in a long time… I want to rest here all night and never go…_

They remain that way for a while, watching the last shreds of red finally vanishing from the sky far away, beyond the wheat fields and the dirt road. There is only the two of them now, facing the night that spreads in front of them, not daring to move. Somewhere in the fields, the first crickets begin to leave their hiding places and their chorus of _cri-cri-cri_ fills the air _._ Sandor has stopped brushing her arms and is now embracing her, his hands holding hers while his thumbs make soft circles over her palms and she simply curls up against him, comfortable and peaceful, wondering when was the last time she experienced those feelings when being with someone, and realizing that probably never. Sansa feels his chin over the crown of her head; then his beard brushing against her temple, his warm breath over her skin, and wonders how it’d be to turn her face to his and meet his lips, how it’d feel to be kissed by this man who knows her from long ago but who she is now knowing again as if it were the first time. Sandor lightly kisses her temple and tightens his hold; she trembles in anticipation and turns her head slowly towards his, longing to let him kiss her, to feel his lips against hers, to know if his kiss is as warm as his breath. But just when his lips brush hers, her iPhone begins to ring, adding its cry to the rest of the sounds of the night. She keeps her eyes shut, her fingers interlaced with his, trying to forget that awful sound – but they can’t.

“You should see who is it, little bird,” Sandor finally whispers with thick voice, his lips barely a few inches from hers. She sighs and drops his hands to take the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, just to see the name “Garlan” on the screen.

“Don’t worry, go answer it.”

Sansa stands and slides the bar before taking it to her ear as she walks up to the porch and goes inside, and with that the moment is gone. 

\-----

Sandor is sitting on the steps, alone now that she’s gone from his embrace, cursing the sound of the phone, the man at the other end of the line, and his luck.

_“Yes, I sent the report about the Eyrie Operation two days ago; check your mail, it must be there… no, it has all the info you asked for… yes, I called Mr. Arryn to solve his doubts about it… yes, he agreed to call us back next week with an answer …”_

Sandor already misses having her close; her body cuddled against his, fitting perfectly between his arms. He still doesn’t know how he grabbed the courage to do it, though it was something that he just felt like doing and, as Sansa seemed as pleased as him with the situation, he just got carried away.  He wanted to kiss her so badly… Seven hells, he _meant_ to kiss her well and thoughtfully for as long as she let him before that damn phone rang. He wonders if he’ll have another chance to fully taste those pretty lips he could barely feel for a few seconds, if her mouth would taste of red wine when she allows him to it.

_“Garlan, I-I can’t, it’s weekend already… this was supposed to be my week off, remember?... Myranda has all the details about the operation, you can consult her… no, I already told you, my family needs my help with this… no, my brother can’t do it for me…”_

Her edgy voice gets to him through the open door of his house as she talks with him about a paper or a client or whatever excuse he has found to call and check on her. He hears Sansa pacing nervously around the living room, her tone firm though it doesn’t seem like Garlan is listening.

_“…we have already talked about it… I asked you for time to think, please don’t pressure me… no, I’m not coming tomorrow, I’ve plans for the weekend… no, listen, I don’t want to talk about that now. I’ll call you when I’m back, OK? Bye.”_

Sansa finally comes out to the porch, a sad look and an apologetic grin already hanging from her lips, looking so small inside his old denim jacket.

“I’m sorry Sandor…” she mutters as she sits next to him. “I…”

“Don’t apologize, it’s OK,” he grunts. She looks dull now after talking with him, far from the cheerful girl from barely moments ago. He frowns, thinking of that man who doesn’t listen to her, already hating him for making her to lose her smile. Sandor longs to tell her to leave him once and for all, that no one who loves her would ever pressure her, that he’d never try to change her plans, that, despite the phone call, he still wants to kiss her to make her forget the guy, because he’s certain she isn’t in love with him. He wonders if she’s aware of it too, if she can put the finger on it as clear as he does.

“Doesn’t seem a very fun guy, that Garlan. Does your roommate like him?”

Sansa seems surprised for the question for a moment, then a small grin begins to creep on her lips, “Myranda dated Willas, Garlan’s brother, for a month too, before breaking up with him. She calls them the _handsome boring brothers_.” They both chuckle, easing the previous moment, and Sansa smiles again when she sees that he’s laughing at her story. “She’s been trying to get me to meet someone else since then, says she wants me to be with someone funny so she can enjoy him too.”

“Seems fair.”

“I guess! I think you’d like her, Sandor. She’s like a storm of energy and temperament. I think she wouldn’t be taken aback even by your moody moments,” she teases him with a smile and giving a little push to his knees with hers.

“Let her try…” he growls as if offended.

“Fine, I think I should go, it’s been a long day…” Sansa says, once they have stopped laughing again.

“I’ll take you, come on.”

Sandor drives her back to Brienne’s, in the van this time.  They don’t talk much during the drive until he stops in front of the Bed and Breakfast and Sansa turns to him from the passenger seat. “Thanks for the day Sandor, I enjoyed it a lot.”

He nods; he has also enjoyed every bit of it and already aches letting her go now.

“We’ll see each other again tomorrow, right? Remember you promised me you’d come.”

“Yeah, I’ll take Brienne and Jaime.”

“Great.”

They keep looking at each other in the narrow space of the car, though there are no more words to speak now, when Sansa finally lifts her hand and her fingertips caress slightly his bad cheek. Sandor stills for a moment, surprised at such unexpected gesture, then takes her hand and places a clumsy kiss on her palm before she lets it go.

“Good night, Sandor.”

“Good night.”

Once back at home, Sandor sits on the porch and pours one last glass of the bottle of wine for himself, sipping it slowly as he watches the blackness that spreads beyond the porch, with the sounds of the crickets for company. He shivers, still feeling the soft touch of Sansa’s fingers on a face that nobody has caressed that way before, and wonders how it’s possible that his life has had to go backwards to finally move forward; how is it that a person from his old life is making him discover so many new feelings…

\-----

 **Sansa** : Randa, are you awake?

 **Randa** : Just about to go to bed.

 **Sansa** : Do you mind if I call you now?

_“Hi sweetie, nice to hear you want to talk with me. What’s up?”_

“Hi! I just got home, it’s been a long day… Garlan called me a while ago.”

_“Really? What for?”_

“Work stuff, you know. But listen, I’ve been thinking… I think I don’t want to be with him anymore.”

_“THANK GOD! Oh Sansa, I’ve been waiting for months to hear you say this. But, what made you change your mind? Or better, who?”_

“I’ve been talking with Sandor and…”

_“I KNEW IT! I knew there was something there; you can’t lie to me Sansa Stark! So what happened between you two? TELL. ME. EVERYTHING.”_

“We spent the day out together. He asked me about my _boyfriend_ and I don’t know, I told him everything. Even what you called them! We laughed at that.”

_“And what did he say?”_

“Nothing really, he just listened to me, and didn’t mock my ideas about working outside a big firm.  But I think he doesn’t like Garlan.”

_“Well, bonus for him! I already like the guy. I think you’re making the right decision, Sansa. I’ve told you that many times; it’s not only that he treats you well, love is more than that. He has to take your breath away; he has to make you FEEL special. Hey, wait… does Sandor take your breath away?”_

“I think so… Maybe you were right Randa, maybe I have a crush…”

_“YAYYY!! I’m so glad for you!! You deserve it!”_

“Yeah, I guess. I’m tired, I’m going to bed. It’s great talking to you, I miss you!”

_“I miss you too, enjoy of your weekend with him! And don’t forget to call me again OK? Good night!”_

 

Sansa is still wearing Sandor’s big denim jacket when she falls asleep with a smile on her face and a bunch of butterflies flying in her belly, thinking of how it’d feel to be properly kissed by him, if he’d take her breath away, if he’d make her feel special… and somehow she feels he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm mean, sorry, but, this wouldn't be proper Sansan fic without a "unkiss" XD
> 
>  
> 
> [Picset](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/124942013244/fields-of-gold-chapter-9)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor takes her by the hand to the counter, asks for a sangria and watches how she smiles, happy as a child, before sipping the straw. He wonders if Sansa is a little tipsy already, though he doesn’t care; she is funny as hell and under the counter, where nobody can see them, their fingers have interlaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, Kit and I have been on vacation this month and we had a rest from fanfiction. Hope this chapter compensates the wait, it was very fun to write. Thanks for still being there! Enjoy!.

 

**SATURDAY**

It was hard to remember the last time Brienne had enjoyed of a good Saturday trip out of Invernalia. Probably not since winter, when she and Jaime went to visit her family, and even that time wasn’t as fun as this intends to be. She received Sansa’s text yesterday afternoon, and didn’t hesitate for a single moment. Jaime was in at once, and to their surprise, somehow Sansa had managed to convince Sandor to join them, too. Brienne was so excited about this plan with her boyfriend and friends that she had woken up early and is already ready, waiting for Jaime and her guest in the kitchen, having a coffee.

Jaime is the first one to join her; all wet hair and that smile that always leaves her breathless pasted his sleepy face. Brienne watches him, dazzled, as he slides into a t-shirt before kissing her again and pouring a cup of coffee for himself.

“Where is the girl who plotted everything?” he asks, looking around. “Is she already gone?”

“Not yet. I heard her showering like two hours ago, but she hasn’t come down yet. I think she is still getting ready.”

“You think it’s for Sandor? Because I bet he’d like her even with a bag over her head!” Jaime jokes. “I’m all curious about what she told him yesterday to persuade him to come to the festival in Salinas. You know, that scary place with children, laughs, music and what is worst, people having fun around!” Brienne laughs with him because he’s right. Sandor isn’t a party person, he usually feels more comfortable with just the three of them than with a crowd of people around, but she bets spending another day with Sansa Stark had something to do with making up his mind. She still doesn’t know what exactly happened between the two of them in the past and hasn’t dared to ask her boyfriend yet, though it’s obvious that since Sansa is there, Sandor is troubled, to say the least.

“Who knows, yesterday they spent the day together and she arrived late…”

They hear a clatter of heels coming down the stairs and Brienne shuts up as a stunning Sansa walks to the kitchen, leaving both of them speechless. She is wearing a coral-colored short dress with round neck that hugs her waist and matches her hair, and a pair of nude peep toes that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She has also combed her long hair and done her makeup, and Brienne thinks she’ll be the most beautiful girl for 50 kilometers around Salinas today. Jaime whistles and takes her hand, making her giggle and spin around as the skirt floats around her tights like a flower.

“Sandor will have a hard time pushing aside all the men that will flock to you around you today!” Jaime teases her with a wink, making her blush until she is the same color as her clothes.

“Don’t listen to him, you look amazing,” Brienne intervenes. “But don’t forget to get a jacket, it’ll cool down in the evening.”

“Yeah, I know, don’t worry. Hasn’t Sandor come yet for you?”

“He called a few minutes ago, must be in his way,” Jaime explains, barely seconds before the sound of the engine of his van arrives from outside, and some moments later Sandor bursts through the door of the Bed and Breakfast.

“Hey!” Jaime says, though Brienne doubts his friend is listening to him; he only has eyes for Sansa, his gaze roaming over her once and again, from her toes to the last hair of her head. Sansa smiles and blushes again, brushes her hair behind her ear and looks nervously at the tips of her shoes, and Brienne wonders if Jaime was right, if there is really something going on between them. The girl finally looks at him and her lips form a small “o” when their gazes interlace. _Fine Sansa, I get it_ , _I get it,_ Brienne laughs to herself, because she thinks she has never seen Sandor so dressed-up, and it’s really a great view. He’s wearing his inseparable jeans, though this time he’s combined them with a nice white shirt with the brand logo embroidery on the front, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of shoes she has never seen him wear before. She wonders if the label of the shirt would be still hanging from somewhere, because that was her and Jaime’s last birthday present and she is pretty sure Sandor is wearing it for the first time. 

“Hi Sandor,” Sansa says.

“Be careful not to go down with those heels over the pavement, _miss_.”

“Well, if that happens, I’ll need someone to hold me,” she replies playfully with a grin and he returns it in which seems to be a joke of theirs, while Jaime elbows Brienne, amused at the scene. “I’m going to pick my friends up. We’ll meet at Salinas in a while, right?”

Sandor nods and she takes her purse as his eyes follow her until she leaves the house. “Don’t make any joke, Lannister,” he grunts to Jaime as soon as she is gone and he notices his friend has opened the mouth to say something.

“Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything!” Jaime complains.

“You look great Sandor,” Brienne compliments him.

“Yeah, you do! I’m sure Sansa thinks the same,” Jaime finally says, unable to shut up any longer and winning a snort and a frown from Sandor. “Just saying I’m glad you’ve finally found a special occasion to wear the shirt we bought you!”

“Yeah, whatever. Fine, let’s go. If I have to spend the day around Beric Dondarrion I’d better have a drink before he arrives.”

\-----

Forty minutes later the three of them are having a walk through Salinas. The village is full of people and life; the streets crowded with children and families. There are terraces everywhere to have lunch outside, plenty of food stands, and musicians playing at every corner filling the air with many different songs that interlace one with another as they move from one street to the other. Brienne is enjoying it all like a child, a smile on her face and Jaime’s good arm wrapped around her waist. They’ve already been together for three years, and she still feels so foolishly thrilled about being with him, of that confident smile with which Jaime looks at her every now and then, as if to reassure her how proud he is of showing to the world that she’s his girl. She feels so lucky to have found love with him that she doesn’t even care about the looks they still get from people. She’s used to them by now, how Jaime catches the eye of women wherever he goes and the sideways gazes that fall on her after, wondering how it’s possible that such a big ugly woman, even taller than him, has been able to get such a gorgeous man. Brienne understands it, because sometimes she still asks herself the same question, but it’s long since she cared. However odd they look as a couple, they are happy and nothing is going to ruin it, especially not today.

Sandor walks next to them, nervously scanning the mass of families and couples that crowd the streets behind his sunglasses, looking for Sansa. Brienne knows he feels awkward, not fitting in with the happy people, the music, and the colored flags that hang from side to side of the street, and she hopes they meet Sansa and her friends soon so Sandor cheers up again. They head to the main square, where a big stage has been set up and Sandor scans the people for the hundredth time until finally a flash of red catches his attention. Sansa finally sees them too; she waves a hand, smiles warmly and rushes to where they are, followed closely by Jeyne, Beric and Podrick. She apologizes for not arriving earlier – something about Pod not being ready when she arrived at his house – and Sandor finally grins and relaxes now that she is with him again.

After the greetings, they resume their walk, Brienne chatting with Beric, Jeyne and Sansa each at one side of a pleased Pod - the trio laughing happily, probably recalling similar childhood moments together - and Jaime and Sandor watching them closely from behind. Brienne notices how Sansa turns from time to time to flash a smile at Sandor that he returns, though she knows the man is probably wondering when her friends are going to leave her alone, or looking for a way to sneak off with her.

It’s 2 pm when they finally sit to have lunch at one of the terraces at the main square. They join two tables, order two pitchers of sangria and the seven of them sit around, not without Brienne noticing how Sansa finally leaves her friends side to sit beside Sandor. Lunch passes by among lively chitchat, good food and sangria. Jeyne and Beric are nice and intelligent and she likes talking with them - even though, for some unknown reason to her, neither Sandor nor Jaime like the guy. Pod is funny; though his attention goes to every pretty girl that passes by their table and she is sure he’ll leave them as soon as he has a chance to meet one of them. Brienne watches Sansa and Sandor talking with the rest of the group though always keeping an eye on each other. Their hands brush when Sandor fills Sansa’s glass, and Brienne even catches a moment when Sandor has turned to speak with Jaime that Sansa stares at him without being noticed, a goofy smile on her pretty face.

“I think your guest has _something_ for my broody friend,” Jaime whispers in her ear.

“I think so too!” she replies, earning a kiss on her lips when she turns her face to him, and she wonders if she’ll ever get used to the excitement she feels when he kisses her like that.

“Maybe one day he’ll be as happy with her as I am with you,” Jaime says, softly caressing her cheek with his thumb, and she knows she’s blushing and grinning foolishly at her boyfriend when she gets a second kiss.

“Hey you two, we are eating!” Sandor finally interrupts them, although Sansa elbows him as soon as his words leave his mouth. “What?!” he frowns when all of them including Jaime laugh at his comical expression. _Someday I’ll tell you the same_ , _Clegane_ , Brienne thinks to herself.

\-----

_That dress is too short for her own good._

Sandor is watching how Sansa dances in the square with Jaime and the rest while he leans on the counter of one of the drink stands that surround the main square. A dance band is playing on the stage now and the place is filled with people moving to popular songs that speak of summer loves and parties, most of which he has never heard before. Yes, her dress is too short and too tight and her legs too long and she’s too damn beautiful for that ugly village. She is dancing now with Jaime, moving her hips, spinning around and miraculously keeping her balance over those shoes. The intellectual pairing of Dondarrion and Poole dance in each other’s arms, while Payne, after having already danced with at least five different girls, is now flirting with a blonde one.

Sansa laughs, dances and sings all the lyrics among the crowd of people, and looks at him with a pleading look from time to time, probably waiting for him to join them, but Sandor didn’t sign up for that.

“You should go,” Brienne tells him, following his gaze, “or you’ll regret it later.”

She is taking a rest from the dancing and is sipping a Coke through a straw beside him.

“I don’t dance,” he grunts.

“Usually me either, but today is a special occasion. Come on, she’s looking forward to it!” she says as Sansa glances again to where they are when Jaime whirls her around. “Otherwise, I’ll take my boyfriend and she’ll be at the mercy of the many men who are watching her now,” she teases him.

Sandor knows Brienne is right; Sansa and Jaime are drawing everyone’s attention on the square, a blur of red and gold as they dance, both good-looking, young and smiling among the rest of the people that fill the square. He frowns and turns to look at Brienne instead, oddly jealous of them, feeling ugly, big and awkward for the zillionth time in his life.

“How can you stand it?” he asks.  “Jaime having the eyes of all women on him.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know, I feel kind proud of it. I know it’s me who he wants to be with and at the end of the day, it’s me with whom he goes to sleep every day.” She sips her drink again; then her voice gets more serious. “Though it wasn’t always like this. I know I’m not good looking and I never had a boyfriend before, but I tell you that I had never felt uglier and more insecure than when I first met Jaime. What has someone as amazing as him have to do with me? I’m even bigger than him and have never known how to dress in a feminine way!”

“I remember Jaime telling me that you refused to date him several times, we had some beers talking about that. I bet those were the first times he heard a ‘no’ as an answer coming from a woman!”

“I’m sure they were!” They both chuckle at the memory of those first moments of that relationship. “But then I regretted not having said yes earlier. My fears didn’t allow me to realize that he was sincere and really liked me, and if I hadn’t overcome them I’d probably have lost him and now I’d be alone. I don’t want that happening to you, Sandor,” she says, gently placing a hand over his arm. “Listen, I know how you feel, especially when there are more people around that make you recall all your flaws, and that you’ve gotten used to live on your own, but I think she is worth taking the risk. Haven’t you noticed how she looks at you? She took two hours to get ready this morning and I assure you that it wasn’t because she was meeting Podrick Payne! She likes you and she is leaving _tomorrow_. Don’t waste the time you’ve got left with her whining at this bar with me and pitying yourself, big boy!”

Sandor pats Brienne’s hand and gives her a half smile. She may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but if there’s something he likes about her it’s that she always says what she thinks. Jaime fell in love with that and he has learnt to appreciate it too. Sandor watches square again; Jaime is now dancing with Jeyne, but Sansa isn’t with them anymore. He looks around, looking for her coral dress among the people until he finds her at one of the bar stands with a paper cup on her hand and a remorseful look on her face, while a man is yelling something at her. Sandor thunders to her side with long strides and puts a big protective hand over Sansa’s shoulder.

“What the hell is happening here?” he growls, looming over the man.

“This stupid girl threw her drink all over me!”

“I-I’m sorry, I just turned and didn’t see you…” she stammers.

“So it was accident and she has apologized. We are fine, aren’t we?” Sandor tells the man, though what he really wants is to punch his red ugly face.

“Watch your step girl, you’ve ruined my blazer!”

“She said she’s sorry, didn’t you heard her?” He frowns menacing and takes a step towards the man, shielding Sansa behind him and ready to kick his ass if necessary.

The man looks up at him, probably weighing what he’s going to get himself into if he keeps offending the hulking mass of man that has come to defend the girl.

“Your girlfriend shouldn’t be alone if she doesn’t know how to drink!” he spits before finally turning around and leaving them alone.

Sandor takes a deep breath before turning to face Sansa, who is staring at him, her lips parted in surprise and an expression between sorrowful, amused, and proud in her face.

“What a jerk!” he says, before his lips turn into a grin at Sansa’s expression. “Are you OK?”

She nods, then bites her lower lip. “I just wanted another glass of sangria, but I bumped against him and all of it ended on his blazer and he began to yell at me…” she tells him, showing him innocently the empty glass she hasn’t let go of yet.

Sandor laughs, amused with the situation and her comical faces, realizing that he hasn’t let go of his grip on her shoulder. “It seems that I can’t leave you alone, little bird.”

She shakes her head and smiles widely, “Thanks, for saving me _again_.” She then throws her arms around his neck and plants a soft kiss on his cheek. “My hero.”

Sandor feels her lips over his skin and smells her sweet perfume, fighting the temptation to turn his face and meet her mouth. Instead, he takes her right hand from his neck and lifting it over her head makes her spin around, her skirt brushing his thighs in doing so and getting a cheerful squeal from Sansa.

“Let’s get you that drink, little bird,” he whispers in her ear when he makes her stop by catching her in his arms. Sandor takes her by the hand to the counter, asks for a sangria and watches how she smiles, happy as a child, before sipping the straw. He wonders if she’s a little tipsy already, though he doesn’t care; she is funny as hell and under the counter, where nobody can see them, their fingers have interlaced. She has that cute innocent grin on her lips when Brienne approaches to ask to join them, and he follows the girls into the crowd, not caring this time what bloody song is being played or that he doesn’t dance at all.

Fortunately, Jaime takes pity on him and brings him a beer. He stands by his side for a while as the girls move to the beat of whatever silly popular latin song the singer is singing at that moment.

“Nice performance, just now,” he teases and Sandor snorts and chuckles in a replica of their typical conversations. “I think she likes you, man. Maybe it’s the shirt. Brienne chose it; you should have used it earlier!”

“Maybe. Clearly it makes me more handsome.”

“Listen, we are leaving in a while,” Jaime explains. “Brienne’s new guests arrive at 8 pm and I’m taking them for a sightseeing tour tomorrow morning; but you two should stay. I think Sansa isn’t done with the street fair yet.”

That’s how half an hour later, they all meet at a corner of the square. Jaime and Brienne have to go, and it seems that Dondarrion and Jeyne too – something about a dinner with his parents. Podrick arrives with the blonde girl wrapped by the waist and with what are clearly lipstick marks on his neck.

“Hey guys! This is… mmm… Brenda,” he stammers.

“Gwen!” the girl complaints.

“Gwen, Gwen. We’re going to stay around here for a while. Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage to get back to Invernalia on my own,” Pod tells them, looking at his shoes and scratching his neck, the blonde smiling goofily at him again. With that the new _couple_ leaves the group again under the astounded look of his two female friends, though Sansa seems a bit sad to know that the party is over.

“I think we’ll stay a little longer too,” Sandor says, taking the keys of his van from his pocket and handing them to Brienne, “Take them back to Invernalia, we’ll return in Sansa’s car. Well, if that’s what you want.” He looks at Sansa and sees how she nods and lights-up like a Christmas tree because of him; and he nods back and grins as he thinks that maybe coming to Salinas wasn’t such a bad idea.

\-----

They talk as they walk together along the busy streets, while he watches, stunned, how she giggles joyfully at his silly attempts to make her laugh. Sandor soon forgets the music, the crowded streets, or the children paying and running around, everything that isn’t her, really. He doesn’t mind anymore the things that usually keep him from these events, and enjoys the simple pleasure of walking quietly with her around that village where nobody knows them; as any other couple who are simply spending a festive day together.

After a while, Sansa stops to buy a cotton candy in one of the candy stands that are in the streets, and soon her lips are covered in pink sugar and her hair is dotted with small pink cotton clouds. Sandor picks a cloud from a strand of her hair and shoves it in his mouth under her astonished gaze, just before she bursts out laughing, waving the stick of cotton between them. Though the candy is too sweet for his taste, he thinks he wouldn’t mind tasting the pink sugar that still remains on the corner of her lips.

Their hands brush as they walk, their fingers fumbling for each other’s for a moment, and he tingles at her touch. Sandor peeks out of the corner of his eye to see how she blushes and grins while looking elsewhere, and knows she has felt it too. When they stop to listen to one of the street bands playing at a corner of a street, he dares to place his arm protectively around her shoulder, keeping her close to him and she smiles, comfortable under his arm, oblivious to the people around them. Later, Sansa decides to stop to buy a gift for her friend Myranda at what seems to be a hippy stand managed by a woman with a long white dress and flowers in her hair. She chooses a leather purse that she thinks will suit her and, as soon as she pays for it and they resume their walk, she leans slightly to his side again, looking for their previous closeness - something Sandor is more than pleased to grant again.

Their steps lead them to the Main Square again, where the band is still playing the main hits of that summer to the joy of their devoted public, and they order another drink in one the stands around the square. Sansa sips her new sangria as she moves to the rhythm of the music, while Sandor watches her leaning against the stand, his beer already half emptied, spellbound by her hips and the knowing smile she throws in his direction - seductive and sweet, beautiful; a smile just for him. He listens for a moment to the lyrics Sansa is humming along with the singer, some song everybody but him seems to know.

 

 _Me without you,_  

_And you without me,_

_Tell me who can be happy._

_I don’t like this,_

_I don’t like this…_

_I’ve been looking for you,_

_Shouting in the streets,_

_Drinking like a man gone mad…_

 

Sansa whirls in front of him, the skirt of her dress and her long red hair dancing around along with her. He isn’t fully aware of what he’s doing when he takes a step forward and grabs her waist, making her stop, holding her with both hands; her back pressed now against her chest. The music keeps playing its hot rhythm about love and madness, about not being able to live without the person you want, and Sansa’s hips still move with it under his hands, following the song, brushing slightly against him. He presses her closer and wraps her in his arms, lowers his face and traces with his lips the curve of her long neck, watching how she sighs, moving it slightly to her right to grant him further access until he leaves a soft kiss in the crook of her neck and feels how she trembles within his arms.

Sandor turns her around to face him - eyes locked in her blue, palms burning over her waist - unable to stand any longer the urge of tasting those lips that have been smiling for him for hours now. It’s been long since he last kissed a woman, though hells if he doesn’t remember how it’s done. Sansa’s chest rises and falls in anticipation, her head slightly thrown back, lips parted, wanting, inviting. He presses his mouth to hers, tasting the sugar on her lips, her skin warm and soft. He doesn’t know who makes the first move when their mouths open to the other and their tongues meet and tangle and kiss and suck, but they both are hungry for the other and are reluctant to stop. Sandor pulls her slowly against one of the columns of the arcade until her back hits the stone, a hand firmly on her lower back, the other cupping her face, lips thoughtfully working hers. Sansa’s glass of sangria hits the floor next to their feet and soon her hands fly to his chest grabbing his shirt as a sweet moan leaves her lips. He smiles into their kiss and nibbles at her lower lip, pleased and proud to elicit such reaction in her, praying to not be dreaming and wake up alone at home.

Somewhere from beyond them, the singer still sings his ardent jingle; _I’ve been looking for you_ , _shouting in the streets…_

His mouth finally leaves hers to catch a breath, and for a moment she moves forward a few centimeters to chase him; lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes still closed. Sandor looks at her then and grins, realizing that maybe the last six years of his life are summarized in that instant, an odd moment of the future where they were meant to meet, no matter how far they’ve run from Invernalia, no matter what they’ve lived before. _I’ve been always looking for you, just for you Sansa Stark, shouting alone, drinking like a mad man in a mess of life, until now…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Salinas' Festival](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/127508894914/fields-of-gold-chapter-10-after) and [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJM9Ayxf_DY) that plays at the end of the chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You really are a temptation, Sansa Stark,” he says with a smirk and a gaze full of desire and untold promises. “But you should stop playing with me because I don’t like losing these kinds of games.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter tuned out longer than I expected and is probably the fluffier thing I've ever written. Be ready to be drown in a sea sugar! ;-) Hope you like it!

 

When Sandor _finally_ kisses her, Sansa’s legs wobble like jelly and she thinks they won’t hold her any longer. Her head spins around in a frenzy mix of music, wine, and kisses as her back hits the column. She has to drop her glass of sangria to the ground and anchor herself to Sandor’s chest not to fall down to her knees, overwhelmed as she is by his intensity; her whole body is burning with heat under his hands. She feels how his left hand on her lower back urges her to press herself to him; meanwhile her hips instinctively seek to cross the small distance that still keeps them apart, eliciting a guttural groan of approval from his throat. Her right hand reaches Sandor’s face, softly caressing his scarred cheek, feeling the holes of the twisted hard skin and the hair of his beard under her fingertips. He licks her mouth, his tongue claiming hers in an endless battle she knows no one is going to win; nibbling at her bottom lip and sucking the air out of her lungs until Sansa wonders if she’ll ever be able to inhale any air that isn’t the one he breathes. She knows he’s watching her, even though she’s keeping her eyes shut, afraid to meet his stare, not knowing if she’ll able to hold his eyes or will simply ignite under them right there. Her hand drifts from his neck down his shoulder, gently caressing his arm, feeling the hard muscles under her palm and rejoicing in the touch. In one glimpse of lucidity, she wonders if she’s going to lose her mind, as her body seems to have a life of her own now that Sandor is demanding the attention of every centimeter of it. She grins in his mouth at a new nip on her lips as she realizes that she doesn’t care. She has already restrained herself too much throughout her life not to enjoy all of the thrill that is running through her body right now.

Sandor’s mouth abandons hers to grab breath and she leans forward, her lips still looking for him, a frown of complaint on her face at being abandoned. When she finally opens her eyes, the first thing she sees are the wrinkles around his eyes, then his dark eyes looking into hers intently. The corners of his lips are curled into a devilish grin full of promises and wonderment that she slowly returns.

“So, what do we do now, little bird?”

His deep voice does nothing but set alight her cheeks once more. He’s leaning on the column with a hand next to her head, the other still on her back; his face too close for her to think clearly about anything but looking up at him with a goofy grin. Somewhere in the square, the music keeps playing, but neither of them are listening to it anymore. Sansa looks at her left hand, still resting over his chest, and removes it slowly. The sun is already setting and she thinks that maybe it’s time to go back to Invernalia before it’s too dark and they are too drunk to drive.  However, the words don’t reach her mouth; she’s still unable to say or do anything coherent yet.

“Do you want us to go back?  We can still have dinner on the porch in time to see the sunset.”

Sansa nods, pleased with the idea. Sandor finally frees her from the space between his body and the column, just to wrap his arm firmly around her waist as soon as she takes a step forward, as if claiming her proudly in front of the rest of the village. Sansa feels blissful while walking next to Sandor to where her car is parked, oddly proud too when they catch the glances of other villagers as they pass by. In that moment she feels like shouting to them “ _yes, you’re right! I’m with him! Isn’t that amazing?”_ Because, shouldn’t the world know how _good_ she’s feeling right now?

The day has already been a blast. Now, with her body pressed against his side, she recalls how nervous she had been when she woke up in the morning - still wearing Sandor’s jacket - and how many times she had changed her outfit until she found which she thought was the perfect one - not before leaving a trail of dresses, skirts and blouses scattered through her bedroom. The time spent in the task was worth it just to feel Sandor’s eyes roaming over her the moment he entered Brienne’s house. However, his attention did nothing but match hers as soon as Sansa laid eyes on him. Didn’t that perfect tailored shirt highlight his well-toned chest and biceps? Had those jeans always hung in that incredibly sexy way over his hips?  Surely the manly bun in which his long dark hair was tied also had something to do with it, but had he always looked so damn attractive before, or was it simply her shameless gaze betraying her? In any case, a neat Sandor was certainly a remarkably impressive view to Sansa’s eyes.

It has been difficult to peel her eyes off him throughout the day. Sansa knows he must have noticed, though she’s played her part of the game too. She has swung her hips, walking carefully over those high heels that are now killing her – though she’ll never admit it to him – conscious of how that dress highlights every curve of her body and leaves little to the imagination.  By the time they moved to the square to dance among the people, she was already a bit tipsy and having so much fun.  Sansa had danced for him; aware of how Sandor watched every one of her movements from his place next to the bar stand, smiling through the crowd; longing for him to make the first move, to walk to where she was, place his hands again on her hips and finish the kiss that flew incomplete between them from last night.

Later, walking together alone along the streets, her heart had beaten faster with anticipation every time their hands brushed or he placed his arm protectively over her shoulders. There had been a brief moment in which a guilty memory of Garlan has reached her mind, though she has quickly tossed it aside. There’ll be time enough later for the guilt. She needs to talk to him when she’s back in the city, to tell him that she’s realized they are not meant to be together and that they should separate their paths definitively. For now, though, it’s time to enjoy the simple pleasure of walking next to a man that makes her feel _alive_ for the first time in years. Because as sad as it may sound, Sansa can’t recall the last time she felt that way, nor does she remember herself doing any of the silly things to flirt with a guy that it seems her body and mind feel like doing today.

Once they arrive to her car, Sansa fumbles looking for the keys until her fingertips find them at the bottom of her purse. Sandor watches her, the characteristic amused grin he uses whenever he finds funny whatever nonsense she’s doing widely planted on his face.

“I’d better drive,” he says, his palm in front of her demanding the keys. She places them carefully into his palm without objection and he wraps them up with his long fingers.

“What?” she asks when he doesn’t take his eyes off her.

“I was deciding whether to kiss you again before getting into the car, or after.”

Sansa smiles, challenging, looking up at him through her eyelashes. She stands on tiptoes to meet his stare, arms thrown around his neck, her lips close to his and eyes closed in anticipation when his arms enfold her waist.

Sandor chuckles and leaves a peck on the tip of her nose.  “I think I’d better do it later.”

Her lips form an “O” that wants to mean something in between disappointment and mortification, but Sandor finds it too comical not to chuckle again at her expression. “Come on, little bird, let’s go before it gets dark.”

Sansa rolls her eyes, regains her balance again and wrinkles her nose in frustration. _You owe me a kiss, Clegane_.

Sandor is already adjusting the driver seat to his size when Sansa gets in the car. She throws off her shoes with a sigh of relief, rubs her heels and tucks her feet under her thighs, her skirt spread around her.

“I think that dress is way too short,” Sandor says before starting the engine.

“Yeah, I reckon nobody liked it…” she replies with mock-sorrowful voice.

Sandor glances at her from the corner of his eyes as a devilish smile cracks on his lips, matching hers. He drives them out of the parking lot but stops just a few streets further.

“Now what?”

“Now is when I kiss you _after_ we get in the car.”

Sansa bites her lower lip and turns to meet Sandor’s eyes, which are framed by dozens of wrinkles. They both lean forward, and their lips _finally_ meet somewhere in the middle, over the car’s gearshift. She cups his face and tangles her fingers in his hair, delighted by the feeling as she tastes him again. Sansa feels how he takes his hand under the hem of her dress brushing her knee and then her thigh; his touch is rough but careful, sending a delightful wave of tingles through her skin. She wonders how far his hand would dare to move forward if she lets him. How far she’d like it to go…

When they break the kiss Sandor starts the engine again and speeds. Soon they are leaving Salinas and driving through the old trunk road that connects the village with Invernalia and crosses through several kilometers of wheat fields. Sansa takes then a moment to grab her phone and send a quick message to Myranda; if she doesn’t share this moment with her best friend, Randa’s likely to be mad at her for weeks. And she’s looking forward to telling her, anyway.

_“We kissed.”_

It’s barely seconds later when Sansa gets the answer, a line of little firework icons followed by another one of tiny flamenco dancers and a dozen of exclamations. She smiles widely at the screen, glad to have her best friend’s complicity. _Yeah Randa, fireworks. Fireworks._

_All or nothing at all_

_Half a love never appealed to me_

_If your heart never could yield to me_

_Then I'd rather have nothing at all…_

 

The music on the CD player fills the air like a perfect soundtrack for the beautiful landscape of fields that spread out along both sides of the road.

_And if I fell under the spell of your call,_

_I would be caught in the undertow,_

_So you see I've got to say no,_

_All or nothing at all…_

 

Sansa has heard that song plenty of times before; however, it isn’t until now that she begins to grasp its full meaning. _All your love or nothing, no halfway…_ She glances over at Sandor, whose stare is fixed on the road, and wonders if he’s also listening to the lyrics. He lifts his right hand from the wheel to grab the gearshift and Sansa can’t help to lift hers too and place it over his. He is startled for a brief moment by her touch, but then interlaces his fingers with hers and so, with their hands making a ball of fingers, they move the lever forward together. Then Sandor takes her hand to his mouth and kisses it lightly, but as he doesn’t let it go, they continue the rest of the drive that way - smiling to each other and holding hands like two teenagers, jazz music playing among beautiful landscapes - in one of those moments that seems like it’s out of a silly romantic movie.

“We should get us something for dinner,” Sandor decides when Invernalia is finally in sight. “We could stop by The Wall and buy something to take away.”

Sansa agrees, her mind already wandering around the menu and thinking about which one of the delicious meals she is going to choose.  After a quick stop at the bar, with Val’s eyes jumping from one to another as she prepares the meals, and Sandor uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to the other, they’re back again in the car with two bags full of to-go boxes on their way to Sandor’s home.

It’s already darkening when they arrive, so they both rush into the kitchen, in time to plate the food, get a bottle of wine and two glasses and sit down to the table on the back porch. It’s an improvised dinner, without even a tablecloth, both sharing all the meal, eating directly from the dishes spread over the table, among _mmmms_ of approval to each one of them.  Sansa loves the artichokes whereas Sandor is more a meat man, but they both enjoy all of them as if it was the last dinner of their lives.

As the sun is disappearing, Sandor throws a protective arm over her shoulders and she cuddles against his side as they watch the last shreds of orange and red vanish into the horizon. Sansa has taken off her shoes, now forgotten somewhere under the bench, and she feels comfortable and at ease there, close to him, feeling his hand softly rubbing her shoulder as they are both sipping quietly from their glasses – the perfect ending for an amazing day. She wonders how it’s possible that less than a week ago the idea of coming to Invernalia and meeting anyone from her past would be so scary, when now she wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world but surrounded by these fields, next to a man she couldn’t stand barely days ago. She knows better than anyone that the turns of life can be unexpected; however, Sansa feels she is still unable to put a finger on what is happening to her during last days.

“We should go inside,” Sandor suggests when she shivers after a breath of wind has blown, lifting the hem of her dress.  She nods and takes his hand to follow him into the house - _his home, his place_ , she thinks, feeling flattered that he doesn’t mind sharing that intimacy with her.

“Feel free to turn on the TV or put some music on if you want,” he tells her as he walks to the kitchen, leaving the dirty dishes in the sink and looking for something in the fridge. Sansa takes her phone and scrolls through her music for some song he may like, though she isn’t sure what kind of music he listens to. She realizes that, as he told her, there are many things she still doesn’t know about him. She finally tries her luck with a playlist of old rock classics she listens from time to time when she goes to do some running to the park. Her bare feet are soon tapping the floor to the rhythm of the guitar of the first song and she is already humming the lyrics when Sandor returns to her, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as he watches her.

“Thought you preferred melancholic songs like those you have on your car.”

Sansa shrugs. “Not always…”

“Look,” he brushes a hand through his hair in an apologetic gesture. “I’d like to offer your something for dessert, but you know, I’m not used to having guests…”

“It’s fine, don’t worry…” He looks taller now that she isn’t wearing her heels, and her eyes fly once more over him, from his hips to his broad chest to his strong jaw and nose, enjoying again the sight of his well-built body until her eyes meet his gaze.

“You look very handsome today.” The words spill from her lips before she can help it and her eyes fall quickly to the floor as she feels how her cheeks burn red for saying aloud such a naïve compliment. Sandor chuckles and steps toward her, placing one hand gently over her waist and the other under her chin, making her look at him again and sending a shiver up her spine.

“I’ve been called many things in my life, little bird - mostly a jerk, truth be told - but I assure you that handsome wasn’t one them,” he says as he looms over her, an amused smile on his lips.  He takes his big hand to the back of her neck then, his thumb caressing her cheek.

“I don’t know why,” she assures him, less embarrassed now, as her hands find his waist too. “Do the girls of Invernalia not have eyes?”

“Only you, it seems.” With a gentle but firm tug of his hand he pulls her closer until her body is flushed to his. Sandor lowers his face to hers and Sansa stands on her tiptoes to meet his mouth. They kiss unhurriedly, tongues gently swirling, hands wandering along their shoulders and backs and music playing in the background; tasting each other quietly now that they are alone. Sansa’s breath quickens when Sandor diverts his attention to her neck and nibbles at her earlobe. He wraps his arms tightly around her lower back then and lifts her easily, making her gasp and giggle as he spins her around and takes her to the couch, where he sits with her straddling him. His eyes are a dark pool of wonderment and lust, as she knows may be her own; his hands are on her waist, steadying her over his thighs.

“Hells Sansa, you’re amazing…”

She smiles coquettishly and throws her hair over one shoulder before leaning to cup his face with both hands and kissing him again eagerly. Stirred by the music and the kiss, Sandor’s hands move to her bare legs and begin making their way up under the skirt to her thighs, his palms softly caressing her skin. She feels how he hardens under her when he finally grabs her butt with both hands and squeezes it, a groan leaving both their lips. She knows she should be scandalized or uncomfortable or embarrassed that he’s daring to touch her that way. However, his hands feel wonderful over her body, which is already responding of its own volition rocking instinctively her hips back and forth against him.

“Dammit, girl,” Sandor gasps suddenly, stopping for a moment to lean his forehead against hers in an attempt to regain control of the moment.  “Tell me if you want me to stop, because I think I won’t be able to do it by my own will.”  His breath is hot, as are his hands on her butt and his thighs, firmly held between hers.  Her breasts rise and fall as Sansa tries to think clearly.

What does she want? She wants to keep feeling so good, to let him explore the rest of her body, and explore his, herself. To get lost in the simple pleasure of being with a man that elicits so much desire in her.  Sansa has restrained herself for years from meeting new people or being with anyone in an intimate level. First, she was suspicious of any nice word or compliment the boys at college gave her, and barely dated anyone during that time. Then she found difficult being with other men, afraid of enjoying sex, somehow waiting for them to hurt her or to mock her.  Undoubtedly, Joffrey had done a good job ruining her confidence and her wish to be with someone. Not that she hasn’t been with anybody for years, but it took her a long time to let anyone touch her; and when she did, it was more a fact of being done with the thing once and for all than something she really wished for and enjoyed. She can barely remember the face of the twenty-something boy she lost her virginity to, something she doesn’t care much about.  It was a mere formality she felt she had to do at the time to not feel different or strange from other girls of her age. With Garlan it was different, though; he was polite, he was calm, he was careful, and he was boring in bed, so he was a safe choice and she allowed herself to go further with him. However, not once had she ever truly felt the need of other body she’s suffering now, not the urgent want of letting him access to her body the way she is feeling now with Sandor. So yes, she doesn’t want him to stop, but she feels that this is not the right way to do it. There is still someone waiting for her at the city, and she wouldn’t ever forgive herself about doing anything with Sandor before talking to Garlan, even if she has already made up her mind about their relationship.  And there is also the fact that she is leaving Invernalia tomorrow.  Somehow Sansa knows that if they go further now, they both will regret it sooner or later once she leaves.  It’s hard, and it’s difficult to do things properly in this moment, but she feels that’s what she must do.

Sandor brushes then a long strand of hair from her face. “It’s OK, don’t worry,” he whispers as if understanding the mess of her thoughts, although she hasn’t said a word aloud yet. He’s wrapped her in his arms, his face in the crook of her neck now.  “My fault. I just couldn’t keep my hands out of you,” he apologizes, kissing her neck softly, which sends another wave of warmth and tingles along her body.

“Do you wanna leave?”

Sansa shakes her head, holding on him, unable to let him go either, so comfortable in his arms. “Good,” he says grinning and with a gentle movement, he turns her until her back is over the couch, lying then by her side. They are cramped in that position, but manage to adjust their bodies on their sides facing each other. With Sandor’s arm as her pillow, and her own over his chest, she can’t help but feel, not for the first time that day, like a teenager, grinning openly to him, nervous and excited at the same time for the closeness with this man she has really known for a few days now.

“I bet you never thought you’d end your week this way when we met me last Monday,” she tells grinning, recalling how things have changed between them in such a short period of time.

Sandor laughs and pulls her towards him with his free hand. “Not in a million years! I was pretty confident that you hated me.”

“After what you told me at The Wall, I thought you were the one who despised me!”

“Well, guess we both were wrong then; that or we fixed it somehow,” he says, and he kisses her again.

They stare to each other in that small space for a while, caressing each other unhurriedly, grinning when they make the other shiver under their hands. Sansa’s fingers wander along his face, his shoulders, his waist, his chest, relishing the touch, as if learning his body by heart for the days to come. Sandor does the same with her and she lets him trace her back, waist, and hips quietly as she snuggles against him, her head on his chest. It’s been awhile since the music ended on her phone, and she just listens now to his heartbeat.

“Little bird, it’s late.”  He speaks in whispers, as if scared that he could startle her, his hand gently brushing her back now. “I was thinking… why don’t you stay for the night? No need to do anything else, I mean, I’ll sleep on the couch.” She looks up at him, pondering his offer, not daring to say yes yet. “I just… It’s been six years. I just want to be with you a little longer before you fly away again.  Make you coffee in the morning and everything.”

Sansa could say many things. She could say that yes, it’s been a long time, probably too long, but that she hasn’t been ready to visit Invernalia and face hers fears for years. She could tell him that since most of the people they knew from when they both lived there are now dead or far away, it should be wrong to be feeling so good now, without them _._ That she already feels that this is going to complicate her life, though she doesn’t want to think about it yet.That she too wants to be with him a little longer, because somehow she feels nothing will be the same for her from tomorrow.

“I’d love that coffee, Sandor,” she replies instead.

“Great. I’ll get you something to sleep in. We don’t want to ruin that sexy dress, right?” Sandor teases. He gives her a peck on the nose and rises from the couch, then he climbs the steps that lead to the first floor where the bedroom must be.

Sansa hears him rummaging somewhere upstairs for a while before he comes back and hands her one of his white t-shirts. “I think this is the only thing I can offer you...”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

“You can change in the bathroom if you want,” he tells her pointing at a door next the kitchen.

Once alone in his bathroom, Sansa stares at her reflection in the mirror. The girl that looks at her from there has messy hair, almost ruined make-up, her dress is wrinkled, and her lips are swollen from the kisses. There is that little bright spark in her eyes though, that makes them shine with something different; something that seems like… joy.   _I like you,_ Sansa tells that face that seems to have been happy for the last few hours _._ It’s not until then that she notices a colorful small thing on one of the shelves under the mirror that takes her attention. There, carefully placed among aftershave, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and other such manly toiletries, is the Mickey Band-Aid she used last Thursday to heal the cut of his hand. She looks at that silly thing, not knowing what to make of it – actually secretly flattered that he chose to keep it instead of throwing it away. Then she tries Sandor’s t-shirt, and it swallows her, hanging almost to her knees. Sansa grabs the fabric and smells it, feeling like a creepy fangirl in doing so and scolding herself for not being able to stop doing those kinds of foolish things that usually have nothing to do with her. _Certainly, some music and several kisses have made your wits gone for a vacation, Sansa Stark._ Finally, she puts her hair up into a ponytail, and washes the rest of her make-up from her face before going out.

Sandor is waiting in the living room. He has changed into those pajama pants in which he welcomed her on Tuesday and a white t-shirt matching hers, and it’s kind of sexy too, this home-loving version of his. For a brief moment, his eyes grow wide when he sees her, just before he bursts out laughing.  “Hey!” she complains, her hands on her hips and a frown on her face; she knows she mustn’t being looking very attractive in that oversized garment, but certainly didn’t expect that reaction.

Sandor paddles barefoot towards her and lifts her chin to make her look at him. “You’re cute even when you frown, little bird. And I like you even wearing this.” He’s grinning, and looking at her as if she holds the moon and the stars, making her feel like the most special girl in the world.  Her frown relaxes and she is aware her cheeks are turning red, unable to help the reaction his stare elicits in her, as she leans into his touch when he brushes her cheek with his thumb.

“Fine. So now, time to move you upstairs.”  With a quick movement, Sandor has an arm behind her knees and another at her lower back and lifts her into his arms easily.  It’s now her turn to laugh and scold him for what he’s doing, but instead she hangs onto his neck and lets him carry her upstairs to his bedroom without further complaint, comfortable and happy in his arms.

The room isn’t more than a large platform over part of the main floor with two of its sides surrounded by a handrail. There is a king-size bed with a white feather duvet just in front of the stairs, a wardrobe to the right, against the facade wall, and a desk with a laptop and a chair at the other side. The sloped roof has the same wooden beams as the rest of the house, giving the place the same comfortable and clean decoration of the ground floor.

Sandor is all hopeful eyes and wide smile under his beard, strong and protective arms when he leaves her over the bed. Aware of the effect he has on her, Sansa doesn’t want to let him go - not yet – so she grabs the front of his shirt pulling him closer to kiss him. He moans and returns the kiss eagerly, his large body looming over her on the bed as he consumes her mouth with a hunger that matches hers; running his hand under her shirt, along her thighs and up to her waist, until his hand cups a breast. Sansa moans into his mouth and arches her back to give him better access, pressing herself to him.  Her hands have also slid under his shirt and are exploring his broad back, up and down, with lingering enjoyment, to continue with the hard muscles of his chest. Sandor raises suddenly to take off his shirt over his head, tossing it into a corner of the room.  Even in the dim light that comes from downstairs, she can make out his imposing silhouette in its full magnificence and the smirk that has cracked on his face as he has noticed the way Sansa is staring at him.

“I think this is not the first time you’ve seen me shirtless, _miss,_ ” he tells her, aware of the lust in her look.

“It isn’t. Though this time is better.”

He chuckles and leans again next to her, one elbow on the mattress and the other hand claiming again his place on her bare waist. “If you want to take a look, I won’t complain. Though I hope I could have mine too,” he teases with a devilish smile.

Sansa takes the hem of his shirt that she’s wearing, encouraged by an unknown desire to play the same game as him and watch his reaction. She lifts it slowly, revealing first her panties then her flat belly, her stare glued to Sandor’s and the way his eyes wander over her. Finally she lifts it over her breasts and he leans forward to leave a trail of kisses from her belly up to her breasts then to her lips as she moans and tangles her fingers in his hair.

“You really are a temptation, Sansa Stark,” he says with a smirk and a gaze full of desire and untold promises. “But you should stop playing with me because I don’t like losing these kinds of games.” And with that, he places her shirt again in its place after leaving a peck on the tip on her nose. “I’d better go downstairs.”

He rises from the bed to leave, but Sansa’s hand firmly grabs his arm. “Stay. Please.” Her voice is almost a whisper, her eyes a yearning plea - though she isn’t sure if he can see them. She doesn’t want him to leave her alone in his own bed. It feels so good to be with Sandor in such an intimate way that she doesn’t want the feeling to end.

“Well, I guess I’m an easy man to convince,” he replies before lying back on the bed beside her again and making her room next to his left side.

Comfily cuddled next to him, Sansa looks at the dormer window on the roof just above their heads, where the night spreads outside that little place of peace and security they have created.

“Nice, huh?” Sandor says following her gaze. “If the night is clear I can fall asleep watching the stars. Favorite part of the house, besides the porch of course,” he explains watching at the window of the roof.

Sansa lifts her right hand to the window, as if trying to catch one of the glittering stars above them. “This can’t be true. Not really,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. “It’s too perfect.”

Sandor turns and kisses her temple, presses her tighter against his side. She hears him exhale deeply and his chest hair tingles on her cheeks.

“Yeah, too perfect…” he murmurs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Picset!](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/129591140194/fields-of-gold-chapter-11-i-just-its-been-six)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God bless the old gods of the plains of Invernalia because theirs is the realm of dreams.

 

**SUNDAY**

 

Sandor watches her back, spellbound, from his side of the bed.  He has to blink twice to believe his eyes.

After waking up with the first sunlight that came through the dormer, it has taken him some moments to realize that he isn’t dreaming; that the red-haired beauty who is sleeping in his bed is _real_. Then the moments shared last night flash through his mind: how he carried her to his bedroom and they kept talking until late in the bed, speaking of everything and nothing, laughing and also kissing from time to time, until Sandor noticed she had fallen asleep while he was telling her some story - probably too boring - about some of his latest projects. At some point during the night, Sansa had left his left side to roll over to the other side of the bed, and he had spread out his body all over the rest of the mattress as he usually does when he sleeps alone – that’s always.  Sansa is now cuddled in the small space his body hasn’t invaded yet, his long t-shirt rolled up to her belly allowing him a glorious view of her perfectly shaped butt.  What a magnificent way to wake up on what was supposed to be any other Sunday.

Sansa is sleeping quietly, unaware of the lustful attention she’s drawing, when Sandor reaches out to where she is and entangles his fingers in her hair, spread now between them over the sheets.  He caresses her shoulder and lets it slide along her side before wrapping his arm around her waist.  He presses his chest to her back, being careful not to get too close and wake her up thanks to the growing erection he’s already having.

Hells, she is more than real; she is warm flesh and bone under his hands, a smile in the middle of the night, laughs on the porch, a slight taste of wine, a little girl inside his piece of cloth - a woman in his arms. She is all those things he’s never dared to dream of, things that certainly will be difficult to forget.  Sansa Stark.  S a n s a.   _Little bird_. Such an unexpected gift some forgotten old god has granted him to light up his gray life for a few days. _God bless the old gods of the plains of Invernalia because theirs is the realm of dreams_.

Sandor breathes in her hair like an addict to his drug and lightly kisses her shoulder before getting out of the bed.  It’s hard to leave her, to step away from her side lest she vanishes like a reverie.  However, he’s made a promise and as he isn’t prone to make promises lightly, he means to fulfill this one: coffee.

Once downstairs, he goes in the bathroom to have a shower before turning on the coffee-maker, allowing the smell of morning coffee fill the house.  Her coral dress is still there where Sansa left it, more proof that this isn’t a dream, that he has really spent the night with her and that she was really enjoying his company too.  A smile creeps onto his lips as he tosses it aside and steps into the shower, welcoming the cold water that flows down his hair and body, waking him up completely.  Sandor doesn’t remember when was the last time he felt so good and alive on a Sunday morning – certainly long ago – or if he had ever had fun at a festival – probably never.  However, both things seem good now that Sansa has been part of them. The thought of her dancing in that sexy dress she was wearing, taking his hands or smiling and laughing with him during the night cause his previous erection show up again and this time he doesn’t bother to hide it. 

Coffee is ready when a sleepy Sansa steps slowly from his bedroom rubbing her eyes, her hair in a big bun on top of her head. She grants him that awestruck smile from the previous night when she sees he’s still wearing only a pair of pajama pants; that impressed look on her pretty face that betrays her when she’s admiring his bare body, and he can’t help but laugh to himself. It’s true that he’s in good shape; all his family had a strong constitution, although it’s not as if his body has attracted many gazes from women so far. His ugly  scarred face, added to the fact that he isn’t very good with people, much less with women, hasn’t helped him at all. There have been some women, of course, but very few have tried to see him more than twice and he has never had the patience to enter the game of dating for any of them. In fact, it’s been a long time since he quit trying and he thinks he’s been happier and calmer since then. That’s why he likes Sansa; nothing seems forced with her. Everything that has happened between the two of them has flowed naturally and, in some kind of miracle, she doesn’t mind the worst part of his face, nor the fact that he was part of the bunch of assholes that used to be around the Lannisters that turned her life into a nightmare six years ago.

As she comes downstairs, Sansa keeps looking at him so intently that she slips on a step and has to grab the handrail not to fall on her butt. Sandor laughs out loud this time, surprised and amused by the clumsiness she has shown during the week.

“Hells Sansa, I can’t leave you alone!” he says, approaching where she’s still standing, her cheeks already red with embarrassment. “Come here.”  Sandor climbs a couple of steps and wraps his arms around her middle letting her throw her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“I’m sorry. You distract me,” she whispers playfully in his ear as he lifts her and carries her safely to the kitchen, between giggles of joy and kisses on their necks, before Sandor leaves her on a stool.

“Good morning,” he says before letting her go, his lips brushing hers. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” Sansa assures him. “Mmmm… love the smell.  I can’t begin the day without a big cup of coffee.”

“Me neither. Hope you like it, I’m afraid it may be too strong,” Sandor replies as he pours two mugs and hands one to Sansa. “Want to drink it outside?”

Sansa stretches and nods before following him, padding barefoot over the floor to the porch. It’s still a bit cold outside at this hour in the morning – it’s already mid-September, after all – but it’s still comfortable and probably the day will be warm, and he has always enjoyed having breakfast outside when the weather allows it. She sits cross-legged on the bench by his side, blowing her coffee and sipping it slowly, and Sandor wonders how it is possible that they have come to share these simple bits of life together - having a coffee on a Sunday morning on his porch, watching the fields, enjoying that quiet moment of the morning in which the only sound that can be heard is the birds chirping. It seems nothing, however it’s _all_ now because she somehow makes it special. Sansa has goosebumps on her legs though he is fine even without a t-shirt, and he finds somehow funny the idea that they are wearing one complete pajama between the two of them. He throws an arm over her shoulders and she leans immediately against his side.

“Thank you,” she tells him between sips. “For the coffee; I love it. And for the rest…”

“Huh?”

“You know, for not making me regret coming to Invernalia. For helping me with the house, for showing me new places I hadn’t been before. For sharing your wine and opening your home to me. For yesterday… I’ve really had a great time this week, something a few days ago I thought would be impossible.”

“Well, it’s obvious that I’m a good host!” he says, and they both giggle. “But don’t tell Brienne or she’ll be jealous.”

“She’s great too. And Jaime, and even Beric, although you don’t like him. There are really good people here now and I’m glad to have changed my mind about this village. Fortunately, the years have changed this place for better and I think I may like it again.”

“Glad to hear you say it,” Sandor hugs her tighter and kisses her temple. “That means you’ll stay a little longer, then?” The question has lingered in his mind since he woke up and slips without thinking, though he isn’t even sure he wants to hear the answer.

“I can’t, Sandor. My week off finishes today and I have to go back to work tomorrow.” She sighs, obviously not happy with the thought, although Sandor dislikes it even more. The idea of letting her go _again_ makes him sick. He had known she had to return to her own life at some point; in fact, it’s already been a couple of days since she completed what she came to Invernalia to do, but Sandor had erased that idea from his thoughts. Now reality hits him hard and he realizes he’s not prepared for letting her go yet. As he wasn’t prepared for meeting her again or for anything that has happened between them these last few days.

“When are you leaving?” he manages to ask through gritted teeth and as quietly as he can, though he knows it sounds bitter.

 “I planned on leaving after lunch. It’s a long drive to the city and tomorrow I have to get up early…” She leaves his side then and looks at him frowning. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Sandor sips his coffee, which is already getting cold, and stares at some vague point of the landscape in front of them, unable to meet her questioning gaze. What’s he going to tell her? That he’d like her to forget her job and her apartment and her amazing friends without telling anyone and stay at Invernalia? It’s a stupid and selfish wish and he knows it, though he can’t help but feel it nevertheless. He doesn’t want to lose her again, otherwise he’ll think all those moments never really happened. He doesn’t want his good luck to end, he doesn’t want to let her go, he doesn’t want to stop feeling this good – not yet.

“I wish I could stay longer, I really do, but I have a job, Sandor. And there is also the issue of the house. I have things to do in the city. You understand that, don’t you?” Sansa speaks softly and quietly, her hand over his thigh, as if taming an animal who can go wild at any moment. As if fearing to startle him. And she has all the right, because there is a storm inside him, threatening to release at any moment. He sips his coffee again, takes a deep breath, and swallows the dark liquid and with it her words, his bitterness and his damned wasted feelings.

“I know, little bird. Your job. The house, the family and all.” He feels her hand cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at her instead of at the fields.

“I’m sorry. It’s hard for me to leave now too. I wish… I wish I had more time with you. I didn’t plan this…”

Sandor cups her cheek too, her face fitting perfectly in his huge hand. She is sad, he can tell, and he wonders if she has felt it too, whatever it is that has sparked between them during their time together, if it’s also there for her. A feeling with no name yet, an invisible bow that has tied them tight and that, as impossible as it may have seemed a week ago, makes hard to be parted. He stares at her, that girl inside his clothing that has slid into his life from his past to turn his safe and boring life upside down with her kindness and a bunch of smiles and laughter. The woman whose body ached to be next to his when he touched her, whose desire matched his last night.  An impossibility. An illusion. Something too good to stay in his life. He kisses her and they remain cuddled one against the other for a little while more.

“I hope it doesn’t take so long to see you again.”

“I hope so too,” she says, a little smile forming now on her lips. “It’s just… Many things have happened and… well, I need to deal with some personal things first… I promise I’ll call you, and we’ll see each other again. If you want.”

Sandor knows that he’ll be waiting like a dog for his master, hoping that she decides to come back, for her to call him or to throw a bone to him. Waiting for her to, in the end, choose him above the rest of her life. _You’re a fool that never learns, Clegane._ “Yeah, I’d like that, little bird,” he replies before he gives her a brief kiss and tries to memorize the taste and the shape of her lips for the long empty days to come. “Now, go take a shower if you want, I’ll take care of this.”

While Sansa leaves the porch and goes into the house, Sandor remains there finishing his coffee and finally unleashing his true thoughts. How nice it’d be to believe they’ll meet again. He really wishes he could at least find some comfort in that. He may be a pessimist, or too realistic or it’s simply that life has taught him not to want much from people, that promises are easy to break. And so he realizes he can’t hold on to her confident words. Sansa probably meant what she said, but he knows that once back to her life, Sandor Clegane and Invernalia will be left behind, the same as her family house - things that were nice for some moments, then forgotten among the duties and reality of her daily fancy life. And he still doesn’t know what is going to hurt more: never having been with her or having the chance to taste her and losing her for a second time.

Sandor imagines her now, naked in his own shower, washing away the effects of the night before leaving to pack her things at Brienne’s, and has to restrain himself not to go to the bathroom to join her under the water and make love to her. _Yeah, so you’d have another memory with which punish yourself for weeks._

He’s trying to digest what is going to happen when his phone rings somewhere in the living room, startling him. He grabs the mugs from breakfast and goes inside to look for it, just to find out it’s Brienne.  Sandor thinks about not answering it - she knows well enough not to call him on Sunday morning - but his friend is stubborn and would be calling once and again until he picks it up, so he grabs the phone and slides the bar with a grunt.

“What… Yes she’s here... No! I won’t tell you anything woman! Since when are you one to gossip?... huh… fine, I’ll tell her… uh… See you, bye.”

Several minutes later, Sansa leaves the bathroom wearing her dress and her hair wrapped in a towel and sits on a stool next to him with a satisfied grin on her face. Sandor approaches her and settles between her legs, sliding her skirt up to leave space for his hands to be placed over her bare flesh. She smells of his shampoo, of hot water and clean skin and he can’t help but to caress the soft skin and lead his hands carefully up her thighs. “Mmmmm...” she purrs as her arms surround his waist, pulling him closer. “There’s nothing like a proper shower…”

“I know,” he replies with low voice before leaving a kiss on her long neck. “Listen, Brienne just called. Wanted to know if you’re here.” Another kiss. “Said she’s preparing kind of a farewell lunch.” One more kiss. “She has even invited your friends and all,” the last one.        

“Oh,” she just mutters, her breath agitated. “Sounds nice. We should go then…”

Sandor finally moves off her neck to look at her, “I’m not going.”

“Why? She’s your friend too.”

“There’s no need to extend this, Sansa. It’s better to say goodbye now.”

He sees the disappointment in her eyes before he’s even finished speaking, but can’t change his feelings either. He doesn’t want to waste a few more hours with her that won’t change anything in the end, nor does he want to spend them with her friends.

“Oh, please, come to have lunch. It’ll be nice…” she tries weakly to convince him, all pleading eyes and sweet words.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.  It’s better this way, believe me.”

“Better for who? For you?”

Sansa’s doesn’t sound angry, but sad. He’d like to do whatever she wants, but he has already made up his mind and prefers this to end as soon as possible. Sandor steps away from her and she stands, trying to smile but failing at it. She goes into the bathroom and leaves with her wet hair combed. Hells, she is so beautiful. She is fun and she’s smart and she’s leaving and he can’t do anything to stop that from happening, to stop the events from breaking him apart again. Sandor stands in the center of the living room, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants, watching how she walks outside to look for her shoes and then picks up her purse from the couch.

Sansa steps next to him letting him wrap her into his arms and rest his bad cheek on the crown of her head. “Try not to get cornered by any animal and not to slip on anything. I won’t be there to help you next time,” he mutters.  He feels her breasts rising and falling, laughing softly.

Sansa finally leaves his side and looks up at him. “So, that’s it… ” He looks away, at the porch and beyond, not finding anything useful to say, his arms now limp along his body. “I guess.”

And with that she walks to the front door, opens it and steps out of his life. Sandor doesn’t turn around to look at her one last time as the weight of his usual loneliness falls over his shoulders when, at his back, the door closes slowly with a soft _click_.

 

\-------

 

A bittersweet taste is creeping into her mouth as Sansa leaves behind Sandor’s home on her way to Brienne’s. She understands him. She knows how hard and sad it may be for Sandor to part ways, because she feels that way too. Leaving Invernalia today is more difficult than she ever thought, but she feels helpless about it; it’s not as if she could change the way things are or the way he feels about it. It was always meant to be one week; that’s what she asked for at work and, to be honest, a week ago it was more than she expected herself to be able to stay in the village. Things have changed during these days, though; probably in a more significant way that she’s aware of yet. But work is waiting for her in the office - piles of paperwork and mails disregarded during the past week – and she can’t extend her free time any longer. Besides, what did he expect? That she would leave everything she has in the city because of a few kisses and a nice night together? It hasn’t been an easy path to make a life of her own, to lose everything for a foolish decision from one day to the other. Routine, work and friends await both of them from tomorrow; responsibilities that can’t be simply forgotten. Real life in a real world with no sunsets and no festivals, and certainly, not watching the stars before falling asleep. That’s how reality is, whether they like it or not. 

Some minutes later, Sansa parks in front of the Bed and Breakfast and opens the door quietly, trying to go unnoticed - suddenly ashamed of arriving almost at lunch wearing the same clothes as the day before. Tiptoeing her way to the stairs, she hears male voices coming from the kitchen, Jaime and Beric it seems, though Brienne can’t be heard anywhere. She manages to arrive at her bedroom without finding anyone on her way, closes the door and stares astonished at the tidy room. Last time she was there – Saturday morning, though more than one day seems to have passed – the bed and chair were scattered with several dismissed clothes and a fair amount of shoes were displayed in the middle of the room. Now all her clothes are perfectly folded over the bed and a perfect line of shoes welcome her next to the wardrobe. She feels guilty as she imagines Brienne taking care of her mess, making the bed, cleaning everything and trying to make the room inhabitable again. Sighing and taking mental note to thank her later, Sansa changes her dress and peep toes into a more comfy outfit of jeans, blouse and flats. Grabbing the strength to pick up her suitcase from the corner of the room she begins preparing her luggage, though it isn’t long until someone knocks at her door.

“Sweetie, are you there?” Brienne’s voice says from the corridor followed by a chorus of giggles.  When Sansa hesitates a moment before answering, Jeyne’s voice joins too: “Oh, come on! Don’t try to hide, Sansa Stark. We already know you are there!”

Sansa rolls her eyes and tries to suppress a laugh before opening the door and find the two women smiling behind it.

“A hard night?” Jeyne ask innocently clasping her hands in front of her. “Anything you want to share with us?”

Sansa finally bursts out laughing and moves away from the door to let her friends and their friendly curiosity come in. _Two friends I didn’t have a week ago_ , she thinks with pride. They sit on the bed on each side of her, expectant and looking forward hearing her story of what’s happened since the last time they were together.

“What?” she asks them, though she can’t help the grin on her face.

“We left you yesterday with Clegane and you are arriving home right now,” Jeyne begins. “Sooooo…”

“I’ve been with him until now,” Sansa confesses.

“Aaaawwww!!” the two women exclaim at the same time with utter delight.

“Did you two enjoy the evening then?” Brienne dares to ask, more cautiously than Jeyne.

A flash of moments come now to her mind – cotton candy, holding hands, cuddling on the porch, Sandor holding her at night, she running her fingers through his hair, his kisses, his kisses, his kisses - and she nods firmly. “We did. It was great. I think… it think it was too long since I was so comfortable with someone actually.”

“I’m so glad for you two!” Brienne says holding her hands, “I’d never seen Sandor so interested in anyone before, nor behaving the way he does when you are around. He really likes you, Sansa.”

Sansa feels her cheeks burning and the goofy smile her lips are already forming. “I like him too.”

“Wow, you and Sandor!” Jeyne adds. “Who could have imagined it when we were just two foolish girl dreaming about our charming prince!”

They both laugh at the thought of 13-year-old Sansa and Jeyne laying on Sansa’s bed daydreaming about how their knight in shining armor would be – strong, brave and gentle - and longing for the day true love would come to their lives. A few years later Sansa had thought Joffrey could fulfill that dream, only to have it become a painful nightmare. During the following years she had believed that love was just something distant to her. And never in a thousand years would she have imagined she would have butterflies again simply by returning to Invernalia and meeting someone from that same painful past.

“Is he coming for lunch?”

“I don’t think so. Sorry, Brienne.”

“Why? I called him this morning…” She seems surprised by it and Sansa can simply shake her head and lift her palms, as if that explained everything. “Well, knowing him, I guess he simply doesn’t want to say goodbye to you,” Brienne offers kindly.

Sansa shrugs, not wanting to keep talking about something she doesn’t have words for either.  Brienne hugs her warmly before getting up. “Fine, there’ll be the six of us then, Pod arrived right after you. Take your time with your luggage while I finish cooking.”

Jeyne and Brienne leave together and Sansa is finally left alone with her suitcase and her pile of clothes and shoes. _Time to pack, Sansa._

Lunch time passes by quietly among enjoyable conversation and anecdotes from Salinas’ festival, praises for Brienne’s dishes and promises from Sansa to call them. It’s a nice meal and the good mood helps to cheer her up and stop thinking about the journey still ahead. Sansa realizes how happy and comfortable she feels with this new little family she has made at Invernalia and promises herself to keep in touch as much as possible.

Half an hour later, Jaime is helping to take her luggage to the car as Sansa is saying good bye, giving hugs and kisses and trying to hold back some tears she is aware are about come out as soon as she is alone. She gets in her car quickly, waves her hand for the last time and speeds to the road that will take her back to her real life. As she leaves the village, she feels silly for feeling so sad that the week is over. _Come on, it’s not as if you’re never seeing them again!_

But behind the smiles and the hugs, a part of her still wishes that Sandor were there too, misses getting to see him one more time. She finds herself constantly searching the rear-view mirror, watching how Invernalia gets increasingly smaller behind her and secretly hoping Sandor’s bike will appear driving behind her car to say good-bye to her properly, although that doesn’t happen. Sansa is sure she’ll remember these days, and the moments spent with him, that something has changed in her, but fears he’ll be so disappointed with her that he won’t even talk to her again.

However, a little part of her refuses to fall into pessimism; the great time lived during the weekend, how much she has laughed, his hands on her, their kisses… all of it is still fresh in her memory and her skin and she is already wondering when she could come again to Invernalia, if Sandor would wait for her until then. When the good memories finally win the battle over gloom, Sansa smiles openly to herself despite the farewell. Those days have done her a lot of good, have helped her to finally close old stories and to open new bright ones. Have helped her to be in peace with her past, to meet new friends, to fondly remember her family. Funny, how some wounds simply needed some talk, wine, peace, and caresses to heal.

Sansa dials Myranda’s number on her phone and waits some seconds for her friend’s cheerful voice to fill the car.

_“Sansa! You meanie, I haven’t heard from you since your message from yesterday!!”_

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Listen, I’m calling just to tell you I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in four hours more or less.”

_“Great! I’ll be waiting for you. But give me a clue, did you have fun? And by fun I mean….”_

“Randa!!  I promise I’ll tell you everything tonight, OK? But yeah, it was great.”

The never ending one-way road spreads in front of her for kilometers and kilometers, leading her back to the city and her friend, though she doesn’t find driving through it boring any more.  Sansa turns on the music and smiles widely. There may be many people who find the lack of dense vegetation of this part of the country less than exciting, believing it to be just a vast dry and barren plain. Sansa herself may have forgotten how beautiful it really looked after so many years far from her birthplace. Old wounds, fears, and bad memories have kept her apart from it for too long. However, she now delights in the sight of the endless plains of ochre fields she is driving through, hypnotic and soothing on its own way, a quiet and sparsely populated land that, after a long time, finally feels like home again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Hope you like the chapter. I'm sorry it took forever to be updated. Everything and more has happened in my life recently, including that my external hard drive with the only copy of this chapter broke and it took long to recover it. 
> 
> Don't kill me for separating them at the end of the chapter please :P I always had in mind that Sansa was going to leave Invernalia at the end of the week. When I began to write this fic I had three things very clear for Sansa: 1) she'd have a job with a big responsability, 2) she wouldn't be living with her family, but on her own, and 3) she wouldn't be a virgin. I know that those points make my Sansa even less canon, but I wanted her to have her own life, her own agenda, something she lacks in Asoiaf. So, point 1 makes her to leave the village even if she is comfortable there. That said, and though I know it may seem that way, this isn't the end of the story. More things will happen, so stay tunned ;-)
> 
> If someone is interested, some time ago I wrote this ficlet based on this same universe, for this moment in the story, between ch. 12 and 13, ["The way back home"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2002737/chapters/10195563)  
> Thanks for still being there!! <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor realizes somehow Sansa has managed to spoil everything; his house, his favorite bar, his secret spot in the countryside, his friends' home, because now he isn't able to enjoy his life in the village the same way as before she came back. And he still doesn't know if he prefers it that way or if it would be better if she had never laid eyes on him

  

 

**MONDAY**

The inbox has been filling the screen for a whole minute before it finally stops as it reaches 213 emails. Sansa looks at the tiny unopened envelopes waiting for her attention, the 213 issues disregarded during the last week and sighs, weary. Deciding that the work, the problems, and the 213 mails will be still there for a long while, she gets up from her desk and heads to the coffee machine to have her second coffee of the morning. As she waits for the coffee to brew, Sansa removes her blazer and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, feeling awkward. She's been at the office for less than 20 minutes and already feels stiff and burdened; it seems as if her suit doesn't allow her to breathe and the stilettos feel uncomfortable and too high. And she has barely been a week away from work.

Coffee in hand, Sansa returns to her desk, watching how her colleagues type endlessly over their laptops, call clients and talk about rates and profits, and she feels like an alien, as if she were there by mistake, and in truth, nothing that surrounds her now in the law firm has anything to do with her.

Once in front of her computer, she shuffles through the emails lazily while rubbing her still sleepy eyes. Sansa and Myranda had stayed awake until wee hours last night, talking about their weeks, about the latest news at work, and how much they missed each other. Sansa told her about how she found her family house, about the appraisal, Invernalia, the food, Brienne and Jaime and their beautiful place, even about Jeyne and Beric. But above all, she talked about Sandor. And it felt good to share the excitement she felt for everything that had happened between the two of them with her friend, as if saying everything out loud to Myranda made it more real and less part of a reverie. Sansa went to sleep with a smile on her face and got up with bags under her eyes.

A new item pops up in her inbox, making the number 214. It's a reminder for a meeting with Garlan and one of their bigger clients - a big company who needs advice on the merger with another company they already bought helped by Garlan's department. Sansa sighs for the hundredth time this morning and sips the paper cup again. Thirty minutes at the office and she is already longing for lunch break. It's definitely going to be a long week.

 

**TUESDAY**

Handsome and tall, and so similar to her, Robb smiles widely from the other side of the square where they have agreed to meet for lunch. He walks confidently towards her with long strides and finally wraps her in a warm hug, and Sansa has to hold back the tears as she realizes how much she has missed her big brother.

Once in the restaurant, they talk for a long time about the sale of the house and Robb thanks her for making the effort to go to Invernalia and take care of everything, though Sansa no longer feels like she made much of an effort during the days she spent there. After lunch they visit the real estate agency, talk with the director of the office – who promises that everything is ready to begin showing the house to potential buyers that same week; they sign some papers and then go for a long walk around the city. Sansa speaks about her job at Tyrell & Associates, and Robb tells her about Jon and their new project together and also about a mysterious girl he's begun dating lately. By the gentle way he talks about her, Sansa thinks her brother really likes the girl and can't help but feel happy for him. At the end of the evening, she finally leaves Robb at his hotel and walks home alone, already missing him since he's leaving tomorrow morning. It should be forbidden that what's left of her family lives so far away from her.

 

**WEDNESDAY**

It has taken Garlan three days to find a place in his busy agenda to meet her alone. An hour after work to have a quick drink at a bar and tell him what she has been ruminating on for the last several days; that's the only time he's been able to schedule for her. Sansa tries to be honest with him, and kind, too, because she doesn't want to hurt his feelings – he hasn't done anything wrong, really. She tries to explain to him that he's a great guy, but that she doesn't feel they are meant to be together. That she isn't prepared to live with him yet. That she isn't comfortable any more with her work at T&A and is thinking about trying to refocus her career in the law field elsewhere, somewhere she can make good use of her professional skills with people who really need them, not with big companies. Garlan looks incredulous at her the whole time as if not understanding what she's talking about. Then he leaves the pub as serious as he arrived, not before telling her that he respects her choice although he's pretty certain she's throwing her life away.

Once alone she thinks that in the end, it hasn't been that hard; not emotional, nor sad. It hasn't been anything exciting, just like the rest of their relationship. _So that's how it feels to break up with someone you don't really love,_ she thinks before finishing her drink and leave the pub too. It's going to rain at any moment, however, Sansa feels fine, lighter, as if she has finally lifted a heavy backpack from her shoulders. She thinks about Sandor then, and smiles. _I should call him._

 

**THURSDAY**

Although he still doesn't understand how it is possible that they need him every single week, today Sandor is grateful for the distraction working at the Baratheon's store provides him. They called him that same morning to tell him they needed help _again_ with the electricity system and also because they wanted him to prepare a quotation for some other projects they have in mind for the business. Apparently the sales have grown quickly over the last month, and they already have plans for expanding their product portfolio and making some changes to the store. And so there he is; fixing again some wires and plugs and taking mental notes about what Renly explains he has in mind for the place; new shelves, an open space in the center with a small place to taste the products and have a drink right there, among others. As they speak, Sandor realizes that he has never been so interested in what the brothers have to tell than today, looking forward as he is to being absorbed in the work and in doing so, making sure a certain redhead keeps out of his mind – at least for a few hours.

Because it's been only three days, and though he has tried to occupy his mind with hard work during the day and with beer in the evenings, he is aware that he hasn't thought about anything that wasn't Sansa since she left Invernalia. And it's not as if he's had much help to forget. Brienne and Jaime have reproached him for not having lunch with the rest of the group on Sunday and they keep talking about her and last week as if the conversation didn't hurt him. But, how could they know how he feels, if even he isn't sure about what's happening to him? Sandor's mood swings from angry, to sad, to lonely, to quiet, to disappointed, depending on the moment of last week that crosses through his mind. He has driven along the street where the Stark House is several times already, slowing down in front of it to look at the sign that's still hanging from the balcony, as if simply by staring thoughtfully at it something would change; Sansa would be there again or maybe she would have never come – the idea depends on the humor of the moment.

"Just call her. I'm sure she'll like hearing from you," Brienne tells him that same evening when she and Jaime appear at his house with a bunch of bags and a bottle of wine for dinner, in a shameless effort to cheer him up. The advice is simple; however, it isn't so easy to put to practice. Sandor is stubborn and prideful, and besides, it isn't as if he has called many women in his life to know what should be said in a situation like this. Hells, he'd probably make the conversation awkward, spoiling it as he recalls how she has a life of her own where he doesn't have a place and she'd never want to hear from him again after it.

"I'll think about it," is the only thing he feels able to promise Brienne. _Thinking about calling someone you're eager to meet again_ , he snorts to himself. Such a simple thing as to make a phone call is something too hard for him to do. In the end, it isn't as if he has changed that much during the last few days.

 

**FRIDAY**

"Hey! How's everything?"

Sansa almost jumped from her seat when her phone rang, so loud in the middle of the silence of the office that some of her co-workers looked at her hissing. After fumbling for it in her purse, she finally took it out just to find Sandor's name on the screen. Her heart is still beating hard as she tries to hide her excitement with nonchalant words of courtesy, secretly flattered and happy that he has finally been the one to break the ice. She walks to an empty office and closes the door to talk quietly and without bothering anyone, while she hears him tell her about a few unimportant things about his week. Though he can't see her, Sansa smiles and nods to the phone, happy to hear his harsh voice again.

"So, mmm… have you thought about coming this weekend? I know Brienne still has a free room and there is some kind of event organized by your friend Jeyne to raise money for the school…"

The question is asked casually and lightly, but it's enough for Sansa's grin to fade, because she knows she can't give him the answer he's waiting for.

"I- I can't, Sandor. Garlan has buried me in a pile of work for a client and I'm meant to have it all ready for Monday morning. I'm afraid I'll need to work through the whole weekend, I'm sorry…"

It's the truth, as simple and depressing as it sounds. Her ex-boyfriend, although apparently seems to be getting over the rupture in front of the rest of their friends, is taking his own particular vengeance in putting more work on Sansa than she's able to handle. Not allowing her to enjoy the weekend is certainly part of it.

There is silence on the other side of the line for what seems an eternity, and she can easily picture Sandor frowning in disappointment. Knowing him, he'll probably be blaming himself the whole evening for calling her just to get a "no" for an answer. However, what Sansa fears the most is the bunch of excuses she's certain he'll tell himself to avoid falling into the same mistake of calling her again.

"I'm sorry, I'd really love to. But I promise I'll try to go as soon as I can."

"Yeah, sure," he just growls to the speaker.

"Listen, about Garlan…"

"No need to explain me anything, little bird. It's OK. You're busy, I get it."

He doesn't let her explain herself anymore and she doesn't feel strong enough to fight him in the middle of her workday, and so that seems to be the end of their conversation.

"I liked talking to you again, Sandor."

The truth again, simple and easy.

"Me too. Take care."

"You too."

Sansa hangs up the phone and sighs. Suddenly the perspective of the weekend in front of her looks even darker than barely few minutes ago.

 

**SATURDAY**

Sandor is waiting for Jaime to come home to watch a soccer match of their favorite team together. It's a tradition of sorts they have. Every two weeks they sat on his couch, drink beer, eat fast food, and yell at the TV while eleven sweaty men run like mad after a ball. They never talk about anything important, nor do anything special, but somehow the simple manly activity brings them together and has reinforced their friendship over the years. Last week there wasn't soccer time, as they were at Salinas, but Sandor is pleased to resume their custom.

Salinas… Sandor recalls it was just a week ago that he kissed Sansa for the first time at the street festival and the memory brings a grin to his lips. Then he thinks of how she'd be spending her day – working with that Garlan, she said – and can't hold the smile any longer. She should be here too, getting ready so they can go out and have dinner and a drink at The Wall, maybe even join her friends, and then come home where he'd kiss every single part of her body that he hasn't explored yet. If Sansa came back to Invernalia, he wouldn't care about sports or work, he'd be completely devoted to her. But she has not, and probably, she never will. So it's soccer Saturday and Jaime for him.

 

**SUNDAY**

Sandor tries to make his growing headache stop with an orange juice and an aspirin while sitting at the porch. He and Jaime went for a drink after the match ended; they talked and drank and Jaime made silly toasts from one bar to another all night long. He can imagine Brienne's face when she saw the too-cheerful Jaime that returned home in the wee hours of night. Though probably, she just laughed at them for being so childish. In the end, he has only himself to blame for yesterday night and his well-deserved hangover.

It's cold that morning and he feels like shit, so he retreats inside soon, drinks a coffee, and buries himself in bed again waiting for the aspirin to take effect. Sunday mornings suck if Sansa Stark isn't here to share them with him.

 

**MONDAY**

_Mondays suck._ That's the first thing Sansa thought when the alarm rang at 7 am. Some hours later, she thought it again after going over with Garlan all the documents she has prepared during the long hours of work for the past two days. And she keeps thinking it now, in the middle of a boring meeting with a boring client about an operation she couldn't care less about. The weekend sucked too. If it hadn't been for Myranda, Sansa's mood would have been worse than ever. Her friend has been the only thing able to put a smile on her face during the last two days, trying to help her with the paperwork and cheering her up as much as she could. She even convinced her to stop working and go out for an hour walk, and it felt good. However, she wonders if the weekend would have been so bad if the conversation with Sandor had gone better. And she thinks that probably it wouldn't.

Sansa checks her clock discreetly and counts the hours to meeting Randa for lunch. _Mondays suck. Every day should be Salinas's street fair_ , she thinks, and for the first time during the day, she finally smiles.

 

**TUESDAY**

"You brought that smile from Invernalia, Sansa Stark. You didn't have it before, and I've known you for years, so don't tell me what happened there is nothing, because I don't want you to lose that goofy smile of yours."

"Sit down and think about whether you want this to be just a nice weekend affair or if you feel something more."

"Stop looking at that screen and pick up the damned phone and call him."

After a long girls' talk with Myranda – where Sansa basically admitted that what happened between her and Sandor really was something different and special and that she missed him - it has to be Randa who finally says the words out aloud so Sansa could react.

Alone in her bedroom, she finally grabs the courage to dial Sandor's number, though nobody answers.

"Hi! I was just checking how everything was. Call me back if you like."

The text message is simple and careless. She is wearing Sandor's denim jacket that evening and feels like a creep who has stolen something as she lays in the bed.

_Please, call back. I miss talking to you._

 

**WEDNESDAY**

Sandor sees her at the Main Square, having a glass of wine at The Wall, talking to him on the porch, or every time he visits Brienne and Jaime at their B&B. He has even met Jeyne once at the Main Square and the girl has smiled at him as if she were aware of some secret about him. Sansa now fills every memory, not letting him forget that she was there once. Sandor realizes somehow Sansa has managed to spoil everything; his house, his favorite bar, his secret spot in the countryside, his friends' home, because now he isn't able to enjoy his life in the village the same way as before she came back. And he still doesn't know if he prefers it that way or if it would be better if she had never laid eyes on him. The main problem is that he misses her so much he's even ashamed to admit it to himself.

 

**TRUSDAY**

The t-shirt is still there, perfectly folded in one of the drawers of his wardrobe. Sandor sees it every day when he gets dressed, though he never dares to use it. He touches it carefully and recalls how it wrapped around her waist while she was sleeping or how she tucked her legs under it when she sat in the porch with him; how small she looked inside it but how damn sexy it was to think that she was only wearing her underwear underneath it. The t-shirt is hers now, and somehow it's waiting patiently for her true owner to wear it again.

 

**FRIDAY**

After working the whole morning, Sandor has decided to spend the afternoon driving his bike around the countryside of Invernalia, losing himself far from the village. He has driven fast along dirt roads, testing the engine. Somehow, the freedom these moments always provide him, soothe him and allow him not be thinking on work, problems, or _her_.

An hour later, he stops at his favorite spot, next to the hermitage at the other side of the Roman bridge. He takes a short walk around there, but it's cold and windy and he decides to leave soon after arriving, bored of being there alone.

Who is he trying to fool? This isn't fun anymore if Sansa's arms aren't wrapped around him while he's driving. Another thing that meeting her has spoiled.

 

**SATURDAY**

It has taken Myranda the whole week to persuade her to accompany her to Harry Hardyng birthday's party. Sansa had refused at first; she doesn't like Harry very much, nor his group of proud rich friends, and she isn't in the mood for parties. Tired as she is of working endless hours during the week, she only longs for staying at home watching a movie before falling asleep. However, Myranda insisted so much that she needed to go out for a while, relax and have some fun that her friend has finally convinced her to join her. Besides, she knows Randa is looking forward to assistance because this guy she now likes, Lothor Brune, will be there too, and Sansa doesn't want to leave her alone.

So there they are, in the middle of an absurdly fancy party at Harry's apartment, surrounded by a lot of people she barely knows. Randa has introduced to her some people and they have been talking with some groups for a while, but soon her friend has sneaked away where Lothor was and they are now engaged in a conversation that involves plenty of laughs and smiles from both parties. Sansa is happy for her, because she seems to be having a great time, so in the meanwhile she tries to find herself something or someone to be entertained with.

Two hours and five glasses of red wine later, Sansa nods to something a guy whose name she has already forgotten is telling her. She smiles politely, looking discreetly around trying to find Myranda, though she is nowhere to be seen. After a while of having a conversation she isn't interested in, Sansa is startled when the guy confidently places a hand over Sansa's waist. She shoves a canapé in her mouth then and sips her glass again just to do something that allows her to move quickly away from his arm. Before excusing herself, Sansa decides to walk to a balcony she has just discovered in the living room. Her steps are clumsier than she'd like to admit and it takes her three tries to grab the doorknob and open the door before stepping outside. The balcony is empty of party goers, and the quiet place - where the talk and the music comes muffled from the main room - along with the fresh air, helps to clear her mind a little. Sansa rests her arms on the rail and watches the city lights for a while, then raises her eyes to the sky and frowns in disappointment. Rummaging in her purse, she manages to grab her phone and dial Sandor's number, though nobody answers. _Oh, come on you pig-headed... pick up the damn phone!_

"Call me back, it's important." She texts him after her second failure.

Sandor calls her back a few moments later, just before she has finished her glass of wine in a single gulp.

"Sansa, what happened? Is everything OK?" Sandor growls with his rasping voice at the other side of the line.

"Thank God you called. No, it isn't. It's all wrong!"

"What happened? Are you alright?"

"I was here at this party Myranda took me to and- and I went outside because I needed s-some air…"

"Hells Sansa, are you drunk?"

"No! Well…" She looks at her empty glass still in her hand and can't remember how many she has already drunk. "Mmmm maybe, but that's not the point! You're not listening, Sandor!"

"Fine, I'm all ears…"

"OK, so, I'm here on this balcony and I'm looking in front of me and you know what I'm seeing? A building! A damn building. And cars down there. So many cars, making noise, Sandor."

"So what?"

"So what? There are only big buildings here! And asphalt, and noise. There aren't even any stars! I can't see them with the city lights! Any of them! Could you believe that?"

Sansa hears first silence on the phone and then his characteristic low chuckling, and she frowns, upset. "Oh, don't mock me, you stubborn idiot who doesn't want to answer my calls! Haven't you been listening to what I've said?"

"Little bird, you're so funny when you are tipsy! Be careful not to fall over that balcony, please," he laughs. Then he softens his voice to a low tone so warm that it seems he's whispering in her ear. "I always listen to you. Would you feel better it was a quiet landscape in front of you? Or if you could see Invernalia's stars?"

Sansa lays her back to the balcony. There's music coming from the living room, but she can't recognize the song. "I-I guess I would," she admits before letting her back slide to the floor and pulling her knees close to her chest.

"I miss talking to you so much, Sandor. Don't be angry with me…"

"I miss you too, little bird," Sandor says. All her body shivers when hearing him calling her little bird again and a goofy smile creeps onto her lips. "I could never be mad at you. I'm just, you know, trying to deal as best as I can with what has happened, that's all." He seems honest, as he's always been with her.

"I'm trying too... Let's just be in touch, will that work for you? I'm trying to work less. I-I left Garlan…"

Sansa can't see his face, but she's pretty sure he's smiling to himself now. "Can't say I'm sorry for him. Are you OK?"

"I've never been better."

"That's good. I bet you're looking gorgeous at that party. Are you showing off your wonderful legs?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Clegane, but not this time. Maybe I'll keep them for when I see you again." She tells him coquettishly as she wraps a strand of hair in her fingers.

"Hells girl, stop playing games with me, you know I don't like losing."

 

**SUNDAY**

Sansa has a growing headache when she wakes up and a glass of water and an aspirin on her nightstand. She remembers coming home with Randa in a taxi after they got bored of the party and Randa decided that Lothor wasn't interesting enough to spend more time with him. She also recalls how her friend laughed at her when she found Sansa sitting alone at the balcony and how they spent the rest of the night together talking about the people they'd met and Sandor's call.

She takes the pill and then checks the phone.

"Good morning little bird. Hope your head doesn't hurt too much this morning."

She smiles and slides under the duvet again. Somehow, despite the hangover, there's no better way to begin a Sunday. _Good morning to you too. Wish you were here making me coffee_.

 

**MONDAY**

Sandor feels oddly good. He couldn't help the grin on his face while he was having a shower, while having a coffee, while driving to the city hall or even now that he's taking notes as the mayor of Invernalia talks to him. Barristan Selmy is a good man – and a far better mayor than Tywin ever was. He wants a big refurbishment of the main meeting room in order to modernize it both structurally and technologically, and he wants Sandor to do it. He'd need to hire some people and work thoughtfully in the project, but it's a huge job opportunity that, if goes well, could mark a turning point in his small one-man company. However, that's not why he feels great this morning. The real reason why he hasn't stopped grinning like an idiot since he woke up is a silly short text from her mobile: "Good morning. Have a nice day :D"

Maybe Sansa hasn't spoiled anything after all. Maybe she's just improved it.

 

**TUESDAY**

"We have a buyer, Miss Stark."

The words echo in her mind as Sansa holds the phone next to her ear without saying anything yet. She had picked up the phone as soon as it rang without even looking who was calling, so it has taken her a few seconds to realize it was the manager of the real estate agency talking about her parents' house in Invernalia.

"A buyer? So soon?"

"Yes. As I told you and your brother, these kinds of properties are rising lately in the market. There are a lot of investors interested in investing their money in them. I was certain your family would get a great deal for it and here it is."

A great deal. Somehow, hearing call her family's house a "property" doesn't do it justice, nor she is able to share the man's excitement.

"There is only one more formality to end the transaction. Our potential buyer wants to meet you and talk about the property before setting the price and signing the contract. I've settled an appointment between the three parts involved – you, the investor, and us – next Saturday at the house. They want you to show it to him again and tell him about its history and all. How does it suit you?"

Next Saturday. At her parents' house. In Invernalia. Sansa can't still believe what she's hearing, the events are going too fast…

"It's OK."

The words flow from her lips before she could even stop to think on the implications. Sansa settles the appointment with the agency and hangs up the call. She'd need to tell Robb, to ask Garlan for Friday evening off, to see if Brienne has a room available … A smile is already spreading across her face as she taps on the screen phone again.

"Randa? It's me. What are you doing this weekend? Would you like visiting a small medieval village in the country?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a strange pairing they make, like beauty and the beast; two completely different people bonded by a common past that shaped them both so much that only they are able to comprehend.

                                            

 

**OCTOBER**

The never ending one-way road spreads in front of them for miles and miles until it disappears into the horizon. The ride is longer than she expected, though they’ll arrive before sunset, just as Sansa wanted. Endless fields of wheat and sunflowers accompany them at both sides of the road, and, although her friend hasn’t stopped talking about the beauty of the landscape since they planned on taking this trip, Myranda isn’t able to enjoy them as much as she does. Those golden fields along the road are dull and boring and the road isn’t any good - the car jumps from time to time when it goes through a bump in the road. Myranda much prefers the thousand shades of green of the Vale where she grew up; surrounded by all kind of trees and with vegetation everywhere, a green place she loves to return to every now and then.

She sighs, returning to the wheat fields and the road and decides to change the music Sansa likes – some boring jazz singer nobody knows about nowadays - to something more exciting.

“Hey, I loved that song!” complains the driver.

“I know, but you’d agree that this is more appropriate for a Friday afternoon,” Myranda assures her, winking an eye. “We deserve some fun after everything we’ve worked on this week, don’t you think? Promise me we’ll go out tonight…Promise me, promise me, promise me…”

Sansa chuckles keeping her eyes still fixed on the road ahead of her though Myranda knows perfectly what goes through her mind.

“Don’t worry, I never thought for one second that you would stay at home on a Friday night!  But don’t expect too much partying in Invernalia, ok? It’s just a small village. Though I promise you we’ll have a drink at least.  Honestly, I’m looking forward to it too!”

“Yasssss!! That’s my girl!” Randa shouts before turning up the volume of the radio and beginning to sing along with the music. It’s an old 70’s dance song about dancing in the disco until dawn, and it’s not long before Sansa joins her and they keep singing out loud together until the last note.

“Yassss!!” she can’t help but scream at the end of the song as if they were in a concert and the public were applauding them.

It’s so great to have those moments with Sansa! It’s true that she is no longer the shy girl Randa met at the University some years ago; she is now a confident woman who seems to fear nothing.  However, something of that quiet girl still remains when her personal life is involved. Sansa and Randa have spent many good and bad moments together: the day of their graduation; when Myranda lost her father; whenever they met a new guy they liked – which happened more frequently to Randa, truth be told; or even when they found their first job at a law firm after graduation. They have been always there one for another, supporting each other, listening, advising, laughing, and crying together when needed. She may have said that she was the person who knew her the best, and Randa was the one who better understood Sansa. She may have said that… until a few weeks ago. The Sansa who came back from what was going be a horrible week at the village where her nightmares came from was… slightly different, changed. Her friend looked more positive, happier, with a light in her eyes Randa had hardly seen before. Sansa had talked about Invernalia, about the Bed and Breakfast, about her family’s house and about her old and new friends for hours. But above all, she had talked about that guy she had met again after six years, Sandor Clegane. All the info she had about the guy was that he had been some kind of douchebag from Joffrey’s group of friends and that he had stayed one night under Sansa’s window, creepily waiting for her to run away with him or who knows what. Yet, this new encounter had somehow changed things between them, and so had the opinion Myranda had about him. After those days facing for the first time in years her dolorous past in a village that had never treated her family fairly, Sansa was happy and excited - and even more pretty, if that was even possible. And whoever made Sansa happy, was more than welcome among Myranda’s circle of friends. Bonus if the guy had made her finally leave that tedious boyfriend of hers in what was, to Myranda’s eyes, one of the smartest decisions Sansa had ever made.

Half an hour and seven songs later, the outline of Invernalia finally appears in the horizon; first the castle above the hill, then the old stone houses and finally the ancient wall around them. It’s a small village, but beautiful in its own way, though Randa is more an urban girl and already wonders if she’d be able to spend a whole weekend in such a quiet and small place.

Sansa parks her car in front of the same B&B she stayed in the last time, where they are nicely welcomed by the two owners. A tall blond girl with short hair, who hugs Sansa so tight it seems she’s going to break all her bones, introduces herself as Brienne, and the hot guy who accompanies her as Jaime. Brienne alone helps them with their luggage to their room while a big honest smile lights her face.

“We are so glad you came back, Sansa!” Brienne finally tells her once they are upstairs, in a nice and wide twin bedroom, beautifully decorated. “And it’s great that you finally found a buyer for the house; I know it’s what you wanted and your main reason to come to Invernalia in the first place.”

Sansa smiles politely and nods; though something shadows her face, as if the reminder of the real reason why she really is there makes her suddenly sad. Brienne seems to notice this, too, and changes the subject quickly.

“Hope you’re not very tired, because I’ve booked a table at the Wall for dinner. Since you two are my only guests for today, I decided to take the night off cooking, if you don’t mind…”

“That’ll be great, Brienne. I’m sure Myranda will love the place too.”

“Sure! Everyone knows I’m always open to trying new food,” Randa agrees, tapping her belly.

“Great. So, Jeyne and Beric will join us too, and well, I’m pretty sure Sandor won't lose out on dinner either,” she declares with a conspiratorial tone in her voice while Sansa looks at her feet and her face gets red. “Meet me downstairs when you’re ready. I’ll drive.”

As soon as Brienne leaves the room, Myranda chuckles and throws herself over the bed. “Come on! Don’t get so nervous. Isn’t this what you have truly wanted so much for all these weeks?”

Sansa lies on her bed and sighs, looking at the seams of the ceiling. “I know it’s silly, but I’m nervous! What if he is disenchanted with me when we meet again?”

“Oh my goodness, girl! I’m aware it’s the knot in your stomach that’s talking for you now, but please, stop saying such nonsense! Come on, get up, we need to look beautiful for tonight, you know we _must_. Hey, don’t look at me that way!” Myranda complains when she sees Sansa is looking at her surprised. “Who says I can’t find my true love here too? For what I’ve heard and seen so far, Invernalia seems to be full of hot guys…”

Her last words are muffled when Sansa’s pillow impacts her face just one second before they burst out laughing.

“You’ll never change, Randa!”

“I honestly hope I won't.”

 

 

An hour later they are entering what seems to be the best bar in the village, at least the one which seems to concentrate the greatest number of villagers at that moment. While crossing the Main Square, Myranda tries to walk with the greatest dignity that the high heels she is wearing (despite Sansa’s advice) allow her. Sansa wears a pair of comfy flats, but she can be as stubborn as her friend. _Any outfit looks better with high heels_ , is Randa’s motto. And today is not the day Miss Royce is going to break her rule - even despite those damn cobblestones that cover the ground and that are already killing her feet.

She knows she has won the fight against Invernalia’s ground when they finally come into the bar. The Wall is a homely place with a strange mix of old and new atmosphere that somehow works, and it’s so nicely decorated that it becomes one of her favorite places from that precise moment. A couple of Sansa’s friends, who are introduced as Jeyne and Beric, are already waiting for them. They seem nice people and Randa notices how comfortable Sansa is with them; relaxed and calm, talking with everybody and smiling like she has hasn’t seen her smile for a long time. _Maybe despite all your fears, this is really your place, my friend._

They are still waiting for the table to be ready when someone else enters the place and his imposing presence makes it impossible to go unnoticed. After a few second scanning the place looking for her, Sandor Clegane fixes his eyes on Sansa. His gaze roams all over her body as he walks toward the group, as if he hasn’t noticed anyone else in the bar - and maybe he hasn’t. The man wears his long hair loose and a leather jacket that seems to have seen many years, the scars on his face make him hard to look at and he doesn’t seem to be the friendliest guy in the village. However, Sansa looks at him in wonderment, as a prey may look at the eyes of the hunter. And that’s what he seems to be: a predator that’s finally found his most precious target. She grins shyly at the beginning, and wider once she has seen a twisted and dark smile on Sandor’s face.

“Hi,” he growls more that says, his dark eyes still glued to Sansa’s.

“Hi”, she manages to reply back softly, her voice something between embarrassment and delight.

_Oh, come on you guys, you’re adults for god's sake!_

Myranda takes a step forward to introduce herself and extends her hand to the guy, who finally takes his eyes off Sansa to greet her. “Hi, I’m Randa,”

“Randa,” Sandor groans dragging the _r_ in way it seems the sound comes from the deepness of his throat, and she can’t but shiver at the sound of his voice and the strength with which he shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“The table is ready, guys!” says Val from the dining room, finally breaking the moment.

The group head to a long table at the bottom of the bar and take a seat - Sandor always next to Sansa, as her shadow or her bodyguard, as if the man fears she would vanish into the air if he stops guarding her. Dinner passes by nicely among delicious local dishes - risotto, mushrooms, red meat and the most amazing bread Myranda has ever tasted - Jaime’s puerile jokes and good vibes, all well-watered with several glasses of the excellent red wine of the region. Sansa talks politely with everyone and Sandor’s laughs are heard above anyone else’s. However, Randa notices how they are always looking out for each other. Sansa brushes her leg discretely against him when she moves and he has slowly but firmly set his arm around the back of her chair as if it was a careless move. It’s a strange pairing they make, like beauty and the beast; two completely different people bonded by a common past that shaped them both so much that only they are able to comprehend. Randa wonders if the rest of the group is also aware of this, or if this connection is so subtle that only the ones who really know Sansa can notice…  

They are asking for the bill when another young handsome guy arrives at The Wall and approaches their table smiling. Sansa and Jeyne jump from their seats and rush to hug him while Sandor’s expression mutates to a somber one.  His annoyance at the presence of the guy and the way he’s hugging Sansa is so evident that Randa finds it kind of funny, and chuckles to herself despite the gloomy glance Sandor shoots in her direction. Probably he still fears someone better-looking usurps his position of privilege next to his girl.  However, if he knew Sansa better, as Randa does, he’d know from the first moment they met again that afternoon that she only has eyes for him.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your beautiful friend, Sansa?” the new guy asks, looking at Myranda as if he has seen the most amazing woman in the whole village. _Oh well, maybe he has_ , thinks Randa proudly as she comes to greet him with a wide smile.

“Sure! This is my roommate Myranda. We also work together at the law office. Myranda, this is Pod, an old friend from school.”

“Myranda,” he pronounces slowly stopping in the _a_ ’s and smiling with his eyes, “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi Pod,” she answers back holding his gaze. “My pleasure.”

“Anyone else want to go for a drink?” Pod asks them without leaving Randa’s side. “There is only one place in Invernalia that closes late, but they prepare the best cocktails.”

“I’d love one,” she says coquettishly just before Pod carefully lays a hand over her waist and begins to guide her to the exit.

Myranda ignores the exchange of looks between Sansa and Jeyne and how they both roll their eyes, forgets the not-so-subtle snort Sandor Clegane has exhaled just a second ago, and decides to lay herself against Pod’s touch. In the end, she is not using that cheeky neckline and the damn high heels for nothing. She feels pretty and wants to have some fun after all week locked away working in the office. Pod is really nice to look at and it seems he thinks the same way for her so, why not? _Who would have thought that I was going to have such a great time in this remote place!_

 

\-----

 

Sansa has felt so nervous all day that she has barely eaten during dinner. The mix between butterflies and knots that fights in her stomach have barely let her enjoy the reunion with Brienne and Jaime until _he_ came. She won’t recognize it, but watching how he looked at her when he finally arrived, with the same eagerness she was feeling, has been the only thing able to settle her anxiety.  Because that’s what she has been feeling during the past few days; an urgent need to be next to him that would appear to make it impossible to survive one hour more, one day more, another night, until they would meet again. Sansa burns inside, feels consumed by his presence next to her; however, all she wants is for Sandor to light her fire even more. It’s amazing how the needs of a person can change in barely two months. How one may know in such little time who she wants to be with. Very little has happened between the two of them since they reunited after six years, but it’s like time has been condensed and what hasn’t been said or done is even more important that what has taken place.

And that’s still how she feels as their group crosses again the Main Square heading to the place Pod talked about. They walk quickly; although the days are still warm, nights become colder as the Autumn advances. In a month, it’ll be pretty cold in the countryside and the ground will freeze, she remembers that very well.

The pub isn’t very big, but it’s warm and nice; with soft lights and comfy couches of different shapes, ages and colors scattered around several tables next to what seems to be a small dance floor. Sandor twists his face to the chill out music now playing and Randa will probably ask the waiter to play something to which she can dance, but Sansa likes it. Its repetitive rhythm along with the special atmosphere and the sparse light warms her in a way; makes her feel lighter, as if there weren’t any more problems than the ones that take place among its walls.

“What are you drinking, _little bird_?” Sandor asks close to her so no one else could hear him. She can’t help but shiver at the sound of the moniker he has given her; a secret code just for the two of them. Two simple words that means so little and so much at the same time.

“Not sure… maybe a mojito?”

“As the lady wishes.”

She waits next to the bar, bangs slightly her head at the music, and notices how Jaime, Brienne, Jeyne and Beric have taken a seat at one the tables with vintage chesterfield. Randa and Pod have already ordered their drinks and talk excitedly at the other end of the bar. She knows both of them pretty well and can already visualize how they are showing their best arms to dazzle the other, both engaged in a master play of seduction. Randa is able to get whoever she wants when she sets it up, and tonight she and her sassy outfit have set her eyes on the village pretty boy. And Pod… well, it’s almost impossible not to fall into Pod’s charms, though he has never stuck with a girl for long. It’s going to be funny to see who wins…

“Here,” Sandor offers her a mojito wrapped in a white napkin. He has chosen a simple beer and hits it softly against her glass, “To your return. Cheers.”

Sansa sips the straw of her glass, tastes the mix of brown sugar and rum, and realizes that this is the first time in the evening that they have had the opportunity to talk alone, far from the others. And she likes it.

“To the weekend…” she replies back looking intently into Sandor’s grey eyes, as if trying to explain to him without words everything that crosses her mind and body. And maybe she succeeds, because Sandor smiles and chuckles without taking his eyes from hers. Suddenly Sansa feels like an open book where he can read every last bit of herself, and she doesn’t mind the sensation at all.

“When do you have to show your House?” Sandor finally asks in an attempt to make some conversation, though she guesses the topic doesn’t interest him that much.

“Tomorrow morning. I’m meeting with the guy of the state agency and the potential buyer. It seems he wants to meet me and visit the house before making a final offer...” she sips her drink again; it’s more sweet than bitter and she thinks on ordering another one once she’s finished with this one. “In the meantime, Jaime and Brienne are taking Myranda for a sightseeing tour around Invernalia. You know, the Lannister Castle, the church and all. I think she’ll like it.”

Sandor shrugs. For him it’s just another village and he has never understood why people come to visit it. “I have not been to the Castle in a long time.”

“Me neither…” Sansa mutters. She recalls it was probably the same day for both, the day Joffrey pushed her down those stone stairs, leaving her life forever marked. However, as odd at it may seem, the memory doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and that's good. That’s unexpectedly good.

Sandor looks discreetly over her shoulder around the pub, and she follows his gaze. Pod and Randa continue approaching distances and moving slowly away from their friends, oblivious to anything that isn’t them. The rest of the group keeps engaged in their own conversations and don’t seem like they miss Sandor and Sansa that much. Sandor then puts his hand over Sansa’s waist and pulls her gently to him, slowly retreating to a less illuminated area of the pub, safe from indiscreet eyes. He only stops when Sansa is almost against his chest, his hand already at her lower back and their faces closer than ever.

“Sansa...”

She lifts her hand to brush away a strand of hair. “I like your hair better when it’s tied up so I can look at you better.”

Her hand remains over his face, a lazy thumb softly caressing his bad cheek when Sandor pulls her finally to him. The kiss shakes her from head to toe; it’s warm and welcome and _so much_ _expected_. It’s as it’s meant to be: an internal outburst of fire, sparkles and desire between to people who desperately need each other.

 

\-----

 

Sandor tastes her thoroughly, exploring her mouth and lips unhurriedly - enjoying a moment so long awaited. Sansa kisses him back as she always does in his dreams, eager and tender, sweet and strong, ice and fire as she is. She tastes of rum and sugar and of a little remains of her lipstick, and Sandor confirms that this is definitely his favorite flavor in the world. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of her head and she releases a soft groan of pleasure at his touch.  Hells, how much he’s missed her! Sandor’s main fear for the last weeks has been that those September days at Invernalia were something unique and volatile, something that was never meant to last and that will disappear in the air the moment she drove out of the village to her real life. And it hasn’t been until he’s felt her slim body against his that he’s released his fears away and begins to believe that all his prayers have been finally heard. The little bird has returned, at least for a few days, and it seems she’s been looking forward to this encounter as much as he. The feeling makes Sandor pleased and self-confident, and the idea that she may also feel something else for him than friendship begins to crawl little by little in his head. She’ll return to the city after the weekend, right, but he’s going to enjoy being with her as much as he can during the next 48 hours.

When their lips part, he engulfs her between his arms and tightens her close against his chest. Sandor inhales Sansa’s scent, and though he’s sure she isn’t wearing any perfume at that moment, her fragrance intoxicates him anyway. _Sansa, little bird… how much I’ve missed you… thank you for flying back to me at least one more time…_ he repeats in his mind, somehow afraid that saying it aloud will startle the intimacy of the moment. However, he can clearly feel how she smiles, as if she also thinks the same - or so he wants to believe - even though her pretty face is buried now against his sweater.

In the pub - in the rest of the world - their friends have risen from the table and are already putting their coats on to leave, although no one comes to where they are to say goodbye. Jaime just looks their way and lifts his only hand as a brief farewell before surrounding Brienne’s waist and leads her outside; and Sandor appreciates that they are respectful with their so-desired moment alone. In fact, he’s selfishly waited the whole evening for them to finally go home so Sansa’s attention can be for him and just for him. Because let’s be honest, being alone with her has been the only thing he’s had in mind since he knew she was coming.

Very few clients still remain at the pub at this hour; it’s late and it’s not as if Invernalia has a great nightlife, although Pod and Sansa’s friend seem to be having more _fun_ than anyone, oblivious as they have been to the rest of them since the group left The Wall.

“Will you come home with me tonight?” Sandor finally dares to ask as careless as he’s able to manage, though the idea has been flying his mind since their hands touched for the first time under the table during dinner.

Sansa finally leaves his chest to look at him; she’s grinning and blushes a little as she puts a strand of her long reddish hair behind her hear. “I’d love to, Sandor. But I’ve booked a room at Brienne’s with Randa. I shouldn’t leave her alone now that we’ve just arrived. She doesn’t know the place…”

“I don’t think she’d mind, look,” he replies pointing with his chin to the other side of the bar, where Pod and Myranda are talking so close they seem to be already kissing. In fact, Pod’s hand is comfortably installed on Randa’s waist, too dangerously close to certain part of her back. “Are you sure you want to separate the lovebirds?”

“Oh, no, here we go…” Sansa sighs, resigned, comically rolling her blue eyes. “I’ve already lived this. She’ll thank me tomorrow, believe me.”

“Ok, fine, up to you.”

He follows Sansa as she walks toward her friends, secretly laughing at the faces they are going to pull when they are interrupted.

“Hey guys,” Sansa says before getting where they are, so they know she’s approaching.

“Sansa! How are you doing?”

“Great, but Randa, I think I’m already leaving, today’s been a long day. What are you doing?”

“I’m going with you, of course” she replies firmly, and Sandor can’t help but laugh out loud at the astonished look of her companion, who has the disappointment drawn on his comely face. “See you tomorrow Pod… if you like…” she grants him, winking an eye as she is already putting her coat on.

“Eee… yeah, sure Randa. See you tomorrow,” the guy manages to finally say once he’s recovered from his failure.

“See you tomorrow too, Sandor.” Sansa tells him with the brightest of her smiles, something to which Sandor can do nothing but surrender. She stands on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on his bad cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Pod and Sandor watch the how the two girls leave, giggling and talking - probably about them - while they stand staring at the door behind which they have just disappeared. Pod runs a hand through his hair and sighs before looking at Sandor.

“Seems they have left us behind, Clegane.”

“Yeah…” Sandor grunts.

“So… Do you want another drink?”

Sandor shrugs. He doesn’t want to return home yet, not now that Sansa’s sweet presence is still lingering in the air, and the idea doesn't sound as bad. “Fine, why not.”

Pod orders two beers and lifts his to make a little toast. “To them,” he says looking at the door.

_Yeah, to her return…_

\-----

 

Despite the first rays of sun that are already lighting the sky, it’s cold that morning in Invernalia, though the morning chill is perfect to finally wake her up. Sansa hasn’t slept much; after such a nice evening, she and Randa kept chatting in bed until the wee hours of night - until Randa fell asleep, really - and though it had been a long day and she was tired, couldn’t rest for long with so many things boiling in her head. That’s why she has decided to get up early and seize the day before meeting with the commercial agent and the buyer he’s got. As nobody was still up when she went downstairs, she decided to have breakfast at the Main Square, just the same way she did in September. And despite the morning breeze, the worry about the imminent meeting and the lack of sleep, the coffee and toast she has ordered seems to Sansa the best way ever to begin the day.

She wanders then for a while around an almost empty Invernalia. Until just some weeks ago, the village was a synonym of fear, anguish and sadness for the elder of the Stark sisters, but now… now it doesn’t feel as bad to walk its streets quietly and to enjoy of the company of the villagers. Nice people who make of it a better place than she knew. With the Lannisters gone or dead and most of the people who turn their back on the Starks’ loss far away from Invernalia, the place is now just that: another village far from the crowded city where her childhood memories can finally flow through her without aching any longer.  And the feeling is a balm for her sore soul, a burden taken off her shoulders that finally allows her to breathe properly this country air after six long years.

Her steps take her inevitably in front of her former home. The Stark House, with its privileged situation in one of the main streets in the center of the village, remains as one of the main historical bastions of Invernalia. The House has belonged to the Starks for centuries, but it’s time to move on. Times have changed and since the remaining siblings don’t want to come here anymore, the moment has come to do something more profitable with it. At least, that’s what she keeps repeating to herself.

Sansa pulls the door open and turns on the lights. Everything is as she left it in September; ready to live in, as if nothing has happened since the last time a family lived here, and it’s a strange feeling. She decides to go upstairs to take off the “FOR SALE” sign from the balcony since it isn’t needed any longer. Two dark cars are approaching down the street, breaking the calm of the day, and when they stop in front of the main door she already knows they are the people she’s waiting for.

It’s 10 o’clock when the doorbell rings and the man from the agency shows up with a middle-aged couple: a man in a dark grey suit and a woman with a fur coat and high heels and too much make up for that hour of the morning. The three of them look too serious and too stiff and don’t smile even once when Sansa invites them to come into the foyer.

“Good morning Miss Stark. I’m Jon Arryn, from the real state agency. We talked by phone a couple of times last week.”

“Hi, Mr. Arryn. Nice to meet you finally in person.”

“These are Mrs. and Mr. Westerling,” the guy introduces the couple and all of them shake hands. “They are very interested in this property, as I’ve told you. They’ve travelled far to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Sansa Stark,” she introduces herself. “As you may already know, this was my parents’ house. Now it belongs to me and my brothers.”

“An impressive property, Miss Stark. When Mr. Arryn showed us the report and the photographs, we knew we had to get it,” explains the man.

“We’d always wished to invest in these kind of buildings,” the woman says. “We live in the Westerlands, but the real estate market is growing, you know. And what better investment than to acquire such a unique house as this of yours!”

Sansa nods politely, though the conversation isn’t flowing in the direction she’d like. She had hoped the House was bought by a family, or a couple who wanted to have children. Someone who would fill it again with laughter and life, not by someone who wants to invest in what’s been their lives just to sell it later at a higher place. _Be practical Sansa. Think on the money, think of your brothers. Think of Jon and Robb’s new project and how much they need the money. Think on your own office…_

She sighs and gets to recompose a smile she had lost. “Would you like me to show it for you then?”

“Of course, dear. Let’s see what wonders hide in this place,” the woman says as she takes advantage from the three of them and walks straight to the living room.

Sansa guides them around the ground floor; first the spacious living room, then again the foyer and then the kitchen. She tells them about the year it was built in, how many generations of Starks have lived here, the coffered ceiling, the old tiles – brought from Essos two centuries ago – the latest improvements she’s done or the light that comes from each window depending on the hour of the day. The Westerlings walk around each room and inspect every corner, door or furniture; talking between them and emitting sounds of approval from time to time. After a while they all walk upstairs where they visit every bedroom and look out of every window and every balcony, as if making sure the view is good. Sansa keeps telling them practical things about the building, the plumbing, the wood of the doors or even the capacity of the closets, but she’s lost in her own thoughts. She keeps watching a younger version of her and her brothers running around, changing bedrooms when their parents aren’t looking or getting ready to go out with their friends. She keeps smelling her mother’s meals; all kinds of spicy and sweet smells that nowadays only exist in her memories. However, some new imageries are now intertwined with those of her family’s. There, there’s Sandor catching a mouse with a bucket and a broom and mocking her for being afraid for such tiny animal. He’s also in the bathroom, repairing the washbasin with his tight white t-shirt – the first time she really noticed how attractive he could be. He’s walking around the corridor with his tool belt by his hip and screwdriver in hand, fixing broken things here and there. They are also in the kitchen, eating Brienne’s meal and talking quietly for the first time in years, or taking care of his burnt hand with that silly Mickey band-aid. She grins, lost in all these new warm memories that have grown as a part of her now and that have managed to lighten her up, and begins walking downstairs forgetting her guests without being aware that it was long since she has stopped talking.

“Miss Stark! Are you hearing me?” Jon Arryn is almost shouting at her. “I was asking you since when is the house unoccupied.”

“Oh, sorry. Six years, it’s been empty for six years now…”

“I love it!” Mrs Westerling tells excited her husband clapping her hands once they all are in the foyer again. “Dear, we must definitively buy it!”

“It’s done, then. I could never contradict my wife. Miss Stark, we have a deal,” the man settles shaking firmly her hand.

“Great decision, sir,” says Jon Arryn. “Miss Stark, I’ll arrange the paperwork and we can meet next week to sign the contract of sale. This is going to be a great business for all of you.”

“F-fine…” she simply manages to stammer. And with that, the deal seems settled and the three of them leave the house as quick as they came, leaving a sour taste in Sansa’s mouth and the impression that something is still missing in all this fuss...

 

\-----

 

It’s still only 11 am when Sansa finally closes the main door and Jaime should already be doing his tour with Randa and Brienne. That is going to take them at least a couple of hours, which gives Sansa some spare time for herself until lunch. Instead of returning to the Bed and Breakfast, she comes back to the Main Square, buys a coffee to take away and decides it’s time for her own tour, for being on her own for a while and to think quietly about the recent meeting. She drives around Invernalia’s streets, though it isn’t long until the car quickly leaves the small village and rides into the countryside. Her route takes her to the same road Sandor took when they spent the day together. The trees have now lost most of their leaves and are only their bare branches which accompany her along the road. It’s a pleasant ride, but not as special as when she did it on his bike. She recalls how she hugged him tight every time there was a bump in the ground – how solid his body and presence seemed to her - and how he was telling her about the places they saw. It’s not long until she watches the old hermit and the Roman bridge and soon after the spot where they had lunch. Sansa parks the car near the bridge and takes a walk around for a while, kicking little stones here and there.

The place is quiet; a soft breeze rises the fallen leaves from time to time and they rustle under her boots. No wonder why it became Sandor’s special place. The murmur of the flowing water, the birds, the soft sound of the air shaking the branches and leaves… it’s all soothing and peaceful, a place to get lost in your own thoughts and forget the trivial things and problems that usually surround her daily. In fact, she realizes that despite the heavy workload she left behind in the office, she hasn’t thought about it since she arrived, nor checked her email even once. And that’s something she never thought she could do; dragged as she is by such a fast pace of work. Somehow the world, the society - no, not the society, the big companies - have tried to sell the young generations that working hard from dawn to dusk is the right way to spend your life. That a good job at a great company, a bright professional career and a high salary are what they need to be _someone_ , to have success, to get anything they want. _This is bullshit,_ she suddenly realizes _._ Because there she is, simply breathing fresh air in a place where no emails, no demands, no clients or big operations matter at all, and she’s feeling just fine. A place where you are someone simply because people value you for who you are, not for how much you make; where work problems means nothing, because they are not really important enough. A place that is slowly but firmly teaching Sansa that there is more to life, that what really matters deep in her core, it’s outside Tyrell  & Associate’s.

 _Maybe it wasn’t just Garlan who_ was _dragging me down..._ Maybe it was all what he represented. Sansa may have thought for a while that that was her way, however she’s not sure any longer.  Maybe her path is just elsewhere, far from a grey office, far from the Tyrells or even that crowded city…

When the realization of it shakes her, Sansa hurries to the car and speeds down the road that takes her to Sandor’s house. As she steps on the accelerator, the cypresses blur at both sides of the road. A sudden urgent need to see him has overtaken Sansa, and the car doesn’t run enough fast to get to her destination.

Once the house is on the horizon, she grins remembering the moments lived there; having dinner on the porch, the sunset, a glass of wine, being wrapped in Sandor’s jacket, him carrying her to the bedroom... She parks at the back, and runs over the steps of the porch to knock on the door. The few moments it took Sandor to open it are to Sansa the longest she’s lived since she came back to Invernalia. Finally, there’s the sound of strong strides approaching and the door bursts open letting the characteristic figure of Sandor Clegane in pajama pants and white t-shirt fill the doorframe.

“Uh, I wasn’t expecting you, _Miss_.” Though Sandor is surprised, the wrinkles of his grin around his eyes reveal that he’s clearly pleased for the unexpected visit.

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming… Are you busy?”

“Kind of…” he says scratching his beard. “Fighting with a new project I have for the City Hall. How was your meeting? Everything OK?

“More or less. There is this couple who wants to buy the House. There are offering me a deal.”

Sansa hasn’t taken her eyes off Sandor the whole time, enjoying of him openly, from his long hair to his shoulders, his chest, his body, the way he’s looking at her now and how she enjoys it too. “And what are you doing?”

“I’m not going to sell it.”

Sandor folds his arms over his chest and leans on the threshold studying her. Sansa holds his gaze firmly, waiting for his reaction without blinking, almost without breathing.

“You are indeed full of surprises, Sansa Stark.”

Though she had already made up her mind, the smirk on his lips and the way he hugs her tight when she finally throws her arms around his neck to kiss him are all she needed to know. She has made the right decision.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a loooong time! Is there anybody still out there?? :P I'm sorry it has taken me a lifetime to update this story, but my life has been crazy during last months and I didn't have much time for writing. But now I'm ready to finish this fic, I'm already writing next chapter and I won't stop 'till the end, so please, stick with me a liitle longer ;)
> 
> As usual, thanks for being there and if you liked what you read, please let me know :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes life knits strange paths where destinies come together. Or maybe it is simply that he’s the luckiest man in the world.

                                                                

 

Sandor takes her into his arms and breathes in her. He takes her mouth into his, her chest pressed against his, her long red hair in his hands. He pulls her tightly to him with eagerness, with hunger for her. Sansa lets him do this as he drags her into the house, shoves the back door closed, and fixes all his senses, all his being, in the woman in his arms. She kisses him back, her mouth sweet and delicate just for him; while she explores tentatively his back; and he tries to restrain himself not to eat her greedily right there over the floor, as if she were some kind of exotic fruit. Sandor’s hands run from her back to her neck to her head, to just trace the path again down to her butt, as if shaping or memorizing her body with his fingers. Sansa allows him to do and undo to his will, so willingly, so relaxed, as she is in his dreams, where everything is perfect and happens as he wishes. Because this could perfectly be one of his dreams, if it wasn’t for his feeling her soft hands caressing his back under the t-shirt, for the way she presses to him as if wanting more or how she allows him to take her coat off and throw it to the floor. He likes it, and he isn’t letting these moments go, not now, not ever if possible. 

It’s been a complete surprise to find Sansa at the other side of the door that morning. Not that Sandor didn’t expect her to call him as she promised, but with her friend around and the business with the house, the chances to be alone with her seemed remote at least. After having a couple of beers with Podrick Payne last night - and discovering that the guy wasn’t as empty headed as he’d always thought - Sandor decided to come home and wake up early to work on the project Barristan Selmy had asked him for. However, going through all the paperwork this new job required was driving him mad. He was a man of action; of taking his tools and doing the thing, and reading a contract or preparing it was something beyond his skills. Anyway, the opportunity was huge, as was the income it could give him. So there he was, fighting against the hateful bureaucracy when, as it happened one September Tuesday not so long ago, an unexpected Sansa Stark appeared at his door.

Sandor can’t still tell why the fact that she has decided not to sell the house, at least not now, has relieved him so much. It isn’t that he had any memories or love for the place, save for the days working there along with Sansa. However, knowing that the house will still remain in the Stark family - in Sansa’s hands - somehow pleases him. Perhaps it’s the fact that there’ll still be something solid to tie her to Invernalia, or the fact that she may have to come to show it again. It could be that she may want to have an excuse to return from time to time… who knows, he doesn’t need an explanation right now. His main fear for the last few weeks has been that, without this business, Sansa didn’t have a reason to come back. Now that the house remains as her responsibility, the chances of her visiting the village from time to time increase. And this is good news. Great news.

Sandor lets her explore his back and his chest while he dares to do the same under her sweater. His hard fingertips probably scratch her skin, though as she doesn’t say a word, he continues to enjoy of her touch, even dares to cup a breast to Sansa’s surprise, who giggles and slides her hand to his butt in return. Sandor wonders if he’s ever been so aroused at 12 pm…

“Hells girl, tell me to stop now, or… or...” he manages to groan between kisses and touches and moans and red hair.

“Uuuuuh ...” Sansa moans as an answer as he begins kissing her neck. And with that, the fire is ignited and the desire unleashes in a house where much time has passed since so much passion has been among its walls.

Sandor lifts her easily with a firm pull, her long legs surrounding his waist. Sansa is light as a feather as he cradles her carefully, her body so small pressed against his, as if she needed refuge or protection - only she doesn’t any more. She plays with his hair while he climbs the stairs up to his bed - the only place Sandor is able to think of right now - and he wonders if she’s aware of how aroused he is, if she is as much as him, if she’d even enjoy the state in which she puts him.

Sandor lays her carefully over the mattress between giggles and mischievous smiles - the feather duvet softly receiving such a precious gift - and he looms over her immediately, covering her with kisses: on the mouth, on the neck, on the neckline; wherever he can, wherever she lets him. Sansa kisses him back, entangles her fingers in his hair and follows his lead, lifting her body so his mouth can have better access to each corner of her body. It’s not long until her hands, tired of just wandering under the t-shirt, urge the piece of cloth to leave, and Sandor gets to peel it off gladly and throw it away to a corner of the room. He enjoys for a moment the lustful glance she shoots to his body just before doing the same with her sweater, that quickly goes to meet the t-shirt on the floor.

Definitely, Sansa’s body is worthy of admiration; a set of perfect curved lines that shape her breasts, her waist, her belly, even her navel. He caresses her greedily, trying to remember how this is done, or what would she like, feeling clumsy and awkward in the process - like if he were an orangutan playing with crystal glass. However, she rewards him with smiles and moans and avid touches and the hottest kisses he’d ever had as they roll over the bed to have better access to the other’s body. In one of those rounds, Sansa manages to straddle him; he’s so thick that she must to be noticing, but the beauty just grins as, very delicately and very slowly, she shoves her hair over her right shoulder and takes off her bra. Her mane is a red cascade over her tits, and she looks to his eyes like a goodness of Invernalia, some ancient queen out of the folklore tales about the wheat fields that has come to show him that, despite his shitty life under the Lannister’s wings and his grey life during the last six years, Sandor’s life has still much to say…

“You’re so fucking beautiful...”

Sansa leans over him and grants him a path of kisses from his forehead down his bad side of the face, then to his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Her nipples rub lightly against his stomach when her lips keep running over his skin, and it tightens to its touch. That’s more than Sandor can stand, so with a quick movement he turns sides and once she’s over the mattress again, he can focus all his attention on her tits and ravish all he can of her pretty body. Without asking for permission or waiting for any kind of response from her part, he dares to unbutton Sansa’s jeans, lower the zipper and get rid of those trousers that are already annoying him. She arcs her back to allow him better movements and just bites her lower lip when they join the rest of their clothes; her stare never leaving his, her hips looking for his, all her senses focused on him, as if he were the only man in the world. A feeling that he’s never had before and that he already loves.

Lying by her side, Sandor ventures his hand under her panties. His courage is rewarded with a thick wetness and a soft gasp, as he rubs carefully his middle finger over her clit. Sansa closes her eyes and her chest goes up and down along with her breath, enjoying the pleasure. After a few moments, she reaches out the edge of his pajama pants and caresses his thickness, softly, with care at the beginning; harder and quicker after, encouraged by his groans. They continue this way for a few moments, lying side by side, touching, giving each other pleasure, groaning, making sure they both are enjoying, looking into the other’s eyes with lust and passion and a bit of surprise even. He’s the first one to give up, coming in her hand with a grunt; earlier than he’d like. Sandor breathes hard for a second and collapses on the bed, though he recalls Sansa hasn’t finished yet and promptly resumes his ministrations. It’s not long until her legs tense and she releases herself too, grabbing his wrist in the process as if she doesn’t want to let his hand go very far from her.

They lay on the bed then, letting their breaths calm down. Sansa has closed her eyes, but he's wide awake; he doesn’t want to lose a frame of what’s happened nor think it has been part of his imagination. The dormer window on the roof above them gifts his view with a bright blue sky at the other side of the glass. It’s going to be a nice autumn day in Invernalia. In fact, it’s going to be the best day ever for him.

When he turns to his side, his gaze meets a bright blue that mirrors the sky above. Sansa is lying a few inches from him, holding her hands against her chest, like waiting for him to do something. She looks at him intently, all red cheeks and big eyes; studying his reaction, a nervous laugh about to leave her lips. Sandor grants her a mischievous smile - one that he’s aware that makes him even uglier, though for once he doesn’t care - and reaches an arm to her. Sansa cuddles next to him as if in search of refuge and he surrounds her with his big arm and she presses herself to him. It feels so good to feel her smooth skin against his, to cover her with his body... It feels like being in goddam heaven.

“You alright, little bird?” He mutters against her forehead.

Sansa nods, her fingers making light circles over his chest, “It was great.”

“Yeah…” And they both begin giggling, their bodies still aroused at the recent memory. And it’s only 12:30 am. The whole day awaits.

Sansa shivers, getting goose bumps all over her skin. Instinctively, Sandor brushes her back and presses her even tighter against him, trying to keep her warm now that they are relaxed. He could be that way all day, all week, simply having her close to him. He wonders if she would mind, if she’d also like to stay with him this way. He prays to whoever may listen that she remains with him - though he can’t grasp why anyone would like to be with someone as grumpy and hideous as him.

“Let me get something for you, I don’t want you to get cold.” Sandor painfully leaves her side and rummages in the wardrobe until he gets it: Sansa’s t-shirt, carefully folded in one of the drawers, ready to be used by its true owner. He handles it to Sansa, who slides it over her head then sits crossed-legged on the bed like a good girl.

“Want something to drink? I can make some coffee…”

“No more coffee for today, please. A glass of water would be fine, thank you.” She’s all big blue eyes as he goes downstairs to get it, like a dog that’s heard a command from his owner - because to be honest, Sandor would go anywhere to get whatever she may need, the moon if necessary.

While he fills a jar of water, he sees his reflection in the glass of one of the kitchen’s cabinets: messy long hair, ugly marks over his face, hairy chest and a not so friendly look. He wonders what she sees in him, why of all the men in the world she could get - and he’s pretty sure there are thousands - Sansa has chosen him to give herself. Although he ponders it for a few moments, he can’t find any answer. Sometimes life knits strange paths where destinies come together. Or maybe it is simply that he’s the luckiest man in the world.

Jar of water and glass in hand, he climbs the stairs to his particular little heaven. Sansa has left the bed and is studying the mess of paper that’s his desk.

“Is this what you’re working on?” she asks pointing at one of the many piles of paper that cover the table.

“Yeah. It’s a project Barristan Selmy has commissioned from me for the town hall,” he tells her, making room to leave the water on the table. “The work is interesting and well paid, but you know…” he rubs his beard and waves his hand over the documents on the desk, as if that explains everything. Sansa keeps looking at him, interested in his words, and hells, he’s never been good at talking when keeping all the attention. He sighs, “I guess I’m at loss with all the legal stuff…”

“The legal stuff?”

“Yeah, you know, the business plan I need to prepare, the employment contract for my assistants, the contract Selmy asked me to sign… Hells, I don’t even understand a word of that damn document! It could be written in Chinese and it’d make no difference to me…”

Sansa giggles at his desperation and he looks at her sideways, desperate enough with the stuff to hear her laughing at his uselessness.

“Let me see…” Sansa sits on the chair and makes a bun with one of his pencils, long legs perfectly aligned as a good student ready to prepare the next exam. She rummages among the papers; her index finger following quickly the lines and nodding to herself. “This contract is specifically for big projects. This clause here says that you’re responsible for all the work done, the staff you hire and the final result, see? Then this clause is a non-disclosure agreement that basically tells you that all you see, hear, and watch during the work is confidential and can’t be shared with anyone outside you or your employees. And this… oh, you shouldn’t sign this one!” she tells him pointing angrily at one of the paragraphs. “Also, you should ask him to include a clause where you limit the amount of your liability, in case something goes wrong, and another one that covers you in case the mayor changes his mind and decides to break the contract before time…”

Sansa looks at him from the chair, all excited; a bunch of papers in one hand a pencil in the other, smart blue eyes waiting for a sign to begin working on the stuff.

“Wow girl, you’re good at this…” Sandor just manages to mutter, still rubbing his beard, overwhelmed and pleasantly surprised at such explosion of knowledge.

She shrugs taking away its importance, “It’s part of my job. This is what I do at Tyrell’s, only for big companies and more complex, and boring, operations. I can give you a hand if you want…”

“Well… that’d be really, really useful… Thank you,” he says.  She smiles, as if glad to be of help and again diverts her attention to the papers. “But… that’d be later, little bird. Now it’s just Saturday morning and I don’t want to lose your attention against those damn clauses. Now, come here.”

She flies from the office chair to his lap in two seconds and a smile, where he welcomes her again between his arms and hugs her tight. Wonderful.

Unfortunately, a phone begins ringing from downstairs and breaks the moment, making Sansa leave his side.

“Sorry, it’s mine! Must be Randa. I completely forgot they should be finishing the guided tour by now!” she tells him as she runs downstairs and rummages in her handbag. “Hi sweetie!... yes, have you finished already?.. Uh-uh… I’m at Sandor’s now… yes, it went just fine, I’ll tell you later.... OK, I’ll ask him. See you in a while!”

Sandor waits for her at the bedroom, hoping they could resume their moments, but his hopes end the moment Sansa comes in looking her for her jeans.

“It’s Randa. She says they are heading to Brienne's to have lunch. Would you like us to join them?”

Sandor likes that _us_ that separates them from _the rest_ ; he likes it a lot. “Sure. I’m hungry and it’s been a long time since I last sacked Brienne’s fridge.”

“Great! I love how she cooks too. Didn’t you know that my mum taught her some recipes? I like that, somehow it’s like still having her close despite all these years…” Sansa explains with a melancholic smile. And for the first time he realizes how alone she may feel sometimes, orphaned and with all her brothers far from her, and that makes him even more eager to protect her, to help her, to hug her.

“Fine, so let’s get going or Jaime will eat everything for us!”

\-----

Sansa smiles to herself as she drives them both to Brienne’s. She guesses she should feel ashamed or embarrassed or… something, after what they’ve done just a while ago in Sandor’s bedroom - at least the old Sansa would have to - but she doesn’t. She is all goofy smiles and shivers along her back, and she feels just great. She is a free woman who can do whatever she wants, and that’s what her body asked her for. Truth be told, she’s been looking forward to being alone with Sandor since they met again last night. She was aware he desired her, and that did nothing but to fuel her own longing for him.  Sansa had never felt that way for any man before, nor has ever experienced such necessity and such desire to be physically in touch with someone. Until now. And it feels great and she doesn’t regret it all.

Sandor sits in the passenger seat in silence, though he shoots glances to her from time to time and she wonders if he’s thinking the same. Sansa peeks at his hands… those hands that can make her feel so great and so alive… Her mind wanders to the places of her body they could explore and her lips crack a smirk at the thought. _Come on Sansa, focus on the road…._ She scolds to herself.

When they finally get to the B&B, the whole house already smells amazing. Their friends are there and the ground floor and the kitchen is a fuss of dishes, cutlery and saucepans as everybody helps to set the table.

“Hey guys, you finally came!” Myranda welcomes them. “You can’t imagine how good the meal Brienne has prepared looks!”

“I guess so. How was the visit? Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, yes. This is really a beautiful place, Sansa.”

“I’m so glad you liked it! I feared you might find it boring…”

“Not at all!  Jaime is a great storyteller; it wasn’t just a dull explanation about history and art; he really knows how to catch the audience. And you?” Randa says lowering her voice so the people in the kitchen can’t hear. “How is it going with Sandor?”

The mischievous look on her friend’s eyes and the easy way with which she can read Sansa makes her flush as red as an apple as an answer, to Randa’s delight.

“OK, table is ready!” Brienne calls from the living room, releasing Sansa from the interrogation.

Everything Brienne has prepared for lunch is absolutely delicious, including Catelyn’s chicken pie, the one that Sansa tried the first night she returned to Invernalia, and a new cream dessert she has made today for the first time.

“So… what are you doing this afternoon, guys?” Myranda asks, peeking at her phone from time to time as if waiting for a call.

“We have all the rooms booked for today,” Jaime explains. “I’m helping Brienne to prepare the rooms and get ready dinner and breakfast in the morning. Have some tour visits for tomorrow, too.”

“Yes, I fear we won’t be able to spend much time with you until you left,” Brienne excuses them.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to help Sandor with some legal stuff he needs for his job…”

“Are you going to work on weekend, Sansa?” Randa complains. “Haven’t you had enough with what Tyrell & Associates has given you this week?”

“Oh, don’t say that! He’s stuck with some stuff and I can be of help, that’s all…”

“Stuck...” Randa says side-eying Sandor.

“Stuck,” Sandor growls crossing the arms over his chest and so ending the conversation.

“OK, fine,” Randa grants. “Don’t worry about me then. Podrick asked me to go for a walk, so I guess I’m going with him. It’ll be fun,” Myranda assures winking and eye.

“Tell him to take you to the balcony of Riverrun. That was one of our favorite places when we were children. You can see the whole village from there, it’s an amazing view,” Sansa suggests.  Myranda nods, taking mental notes of it.

Everybody is ready to resume their plans for the day when lunch is over. Sansa and Sandor drive again to Sandor’s home before leaving Randa at the Main Square, where Pod was already waiting for her with a great smile pasted on his face.

Once at Sandor’s, they get comfortable to start working. One next to the other at Sandor’s desk, they begin to navigate patiently among Sandor’s pile of documents pending of attention. Sandor explains to her what the project is about so she knows what’s going on while Sansa makes herself a bun with one of Sandor’s pencils and takes notes on a notebook. The first task is going thoroughly through the contract Selmy wants to be signed. Sansa reads carefully each one of the clauses the mayor has included in the contract and makes notes at the margins - in red the comments that she thinks Sandor’s has to make to his employer and in green what he should agree to sign - explaining carefully what every clause means in words Sandor may understand. She is meticulous and efficient, just like when she approaches her work at the office, and doesn’t stop until the last page. Sandor nods and does his best to follow her explanations, and realizes he likes the way Sansa gets to make such hard concepts look simple for a foreigner in the matter. Soon he’s engaged in the work too and, even though he doesn’t get all the concepts and has to ask many times to have a clearer view about all the things he’ll need to discuss later with Barristan Selmy, he finds himself truly involved in every word she says.

“OK, this is for the commercial contract. When negotiating with Selmy, don’t be flexible about the points I marked you here, here and here, understood?” Sansa says.

“Yes, Miss.”

Sansa smiles and tilts the head, making the bun slide a little from the top of her head. “Sandor, if you keep growing your business this way, you should have to consider having your own contract for your clients. You know, one that protects and reflects your interests and then you negotiate from it.”

“Sure, and where did you say I can get one of those? I can barely understand this one, much less write one of my own!” Sandor snorts.

“Why not? You’re learning a lot today,” Sansa teases him winning an astonished look on his face and can’t help but laugh at it. “Don’t panic, Clegane. Fortunately, you have your own personal lawyer. I’ll prepare one for you,” She calms him while playing with the red pencil. But Sandor is fast and with a quick movement, he has drawn the chair towards him and his face is mere inches from her.

“Don’t play with me, little Miss lawyer,” he mutters before planting a kiss on her mouth that leaves her breathless and undoes what’s left of the bun. Definitely, that’s a more pleasant way to work than at the office. Sansa clears her throat and tries to regain her composure again.

“Fine... so… what’s next?”

Sandor has a hard time taking his eyes from her and focusing on the desk, until he remembers the next step of the work. “Uh, I guess it’s that damn business plan I need to prepare. Look, I know what I have to do, how much it’ll cost and every single technical detail about what Barristan wants, but… I just don’t know why he needs all this data nor the way it should be presented…” he tells her, passing a hand over his face, frustrated.

“It’s OK that he asks for this, it’s a legal procedure. Look, he knows you’re going to do a great job, he simply needs to have everything written in a professional way so he can justify in the budgets of the city council how much, why, in which concepts and when he’s going to spend all that money.”

“Makes sense,” he grants. “So, what do I have to write?”

“I’ll make you a table of contents every professional business plan must have, listen.” Sansa redoes her bun with the pencil, takes a sheet of paper and begins her task. “First, you must always begin with an executive summary, then a presentation of your business or company, then a detailed presentation of this project, then the capital and materials you’ll need…”

Sansa writes quickly, each one of the contents perfectly specified and numbered, explaining the best she can what should be written in each section. Sandor listens to her thoughtfully, like a good student and she enjoys being able to help him with her skills. He asks some questions here and there and takes some notes too, showing a growing interest in the matter. It’s nice to work that way, with someone she cares about, helping him to grow his small business and route him among all this stuff so he can focus on what he is really good at: build, repair, and design.

After finishing with this part they decide to take a break and clear the mind taking a short walk along the fields behind the house. It’s a bit cold, but it’s nice to feel the fresh air on the face and the smell of the trees and flowers. Somehow, everything is pleasanter if it’s done with Sandor, even working through an apparently boring contract. After a while, and with a glass of wine in hand, they go upstairs to resume the work. The last part is helping Sandor with the legality necessary to hire a couple of employees to help him with the works. Although he’s had punctual assistants from time to time, it’s not as if he’s needed to make a proper employment contract; they usually made a verbal arrangement and he paid them for the few hours they were working. However, this time is different. The project at the Town Hall will last several months, and the people Sandor needs to work him must be covered. Although labor law isn’t Sansa’s strong point, she knows enough to help Sandor with it. The time spent collaborating in some operations at Tyrell’s will pay its reward today.

It takes her almost an hour to explain to him the basic concepts of what he has to do, the web pages where he can do it, how they must be paid and some other topics she thinks may be useful for him.

“So, I think that’s everything I can teach you for now, Clegane. Do you think it’ll be enough?”

“Hells, that’s more than enough! I’d have gone crazy I’d tried to go through all this all by myself. I didn’t even know who to ask for help! There isn’t even a lawyer office anywhere near Invernalia, nor a management business… I don’t know how to thank you for this, little bird…”

Sansa smiles, so happy to be of help, of real help to real people. It feels so gratifying…

“Why don’t you invite me to dinner? But… you cook,” she challenges her with a smirk.

“As my lawyer wishes…”

Downstairs in the kitchen, Sandor rummages in the fridge looking for something to prepare, while Sansa sits next to the counter to check her phone. There are several emails from the office that she refuses to check until Monday, a missed call from Arya from who knows which country, and a message from Myranda:

_“We’re having dinner at Salinas. I’m having a great time, don’t wait up for me tonight. Have fun “working” with Sandor!”_

Sansa rolls her eyes and types an _ok you crazy!_ before putting the phone back in her handbag. Along the counter, Sandor has displayed several dishes with all kinds of cold cuts and cheeses and is now preparing a salad. He finishes off her glass of wine and pours another for each one.

“Surprised? Guess you believed my fridge was empty save for beer,” he teases her.

“I am! But everything looks great.”

“It’s from the Baratheon’s Brothers’ store. They have this kind of stuff they produce in their own farm and then sell the products as gourmet items for tourists. Renly usually gives me something when I go to help them - that’s almost every week...”

Sansa turns on the stool from side to side and sips her glass while she watches Sandor fight with the vegetables for the salad. It’s nice to be there, sharing dinner together, helping him with the paperwork, doing simple things with him. It feels natural, as if they had been doing this for a long time now, as if it was part of an inner routine of them. A nice and comfortable routine that makes her feel at home.

“Oookay, that’s it,” claims a proud Sandor once his green master piece is ready in a big salad bowl. “Let’s move everything to the living room, princess.”

Sansa almost chokes with the wine and bursts out laughing when she hears him call her that silly way, and Sandor laughs along with her, filling the house with good mood and happiness. They finally move to the living room all the dishes and set everything over the table in front of the couch. Night goes by then between cheese and jam, red wine, bread and all kind of lettuces, chatting about the day, their jobs, their things. The company is good, the best in fact, and minutes passes by and the food finishes as they keep telling each other secrets, jokes or whatever passes their minds, as if they had never had the chance to empty themselves with anyone before. After a while, Sandor turns on the TV, Sansa curls up in the couch next to him as he surfs between channels until they finally find a sci-fi movie that suits them both. The story is good, and he seems to enjoy of it as much as her, but after a while, the glasses of wine and the little sleep she had last night pay their toll and the images on the screen begin getting blurred as Sansa fights to keep her eyes open. It’s been a long day. Much and more has happened during the last 12 hours and she hasn’t even had time to think of any of it. Yet, she’s absurdly calm and happy now comfortably being hugged by Sandor in his comfy big couch, over his comfy shoulder, so she finally lets herself to drift to slumber.

\-----

Sandor lets Sansa doze quietly leaning on him while he keeps watching the movie. He knows the day has been long, though honestly the main reason is that he likes being with her that way, as if they had done that many times before and she belonged to that couch, to that place. Sandor is still amazed at how much she knows about laws, contracts and those kind of things. Not that he didn’t know that that was her profession, but somehow it was something of an accessory to her, something that wasn’t her core or held any interest for him. She could be a secretary or a cashier in a supermarket and that wouldn’t make any difference to him. Other _less practical_ things were the ones that attached him to Sansa. However, watching all her skills displayed in working alongside him, has allowed Sandor to see her under a new light. She was hard worker, professional, meticulous and patient in her explanations, and so smart! Not that he doubted it, but it had been amazing to see how that pretty head of her worked. The girl who fled Invernalia was just that, a girl that still had to learn how the world worked. However, the woman who had returned was far wiser in all senses than any of them. And Sandor feels proud oddly of that.

“Hey,” he whispers when the movie ends and there are only the credits on the screen. “It’s late, little bird. Time to go.”

Sansa stretches slowly by her side and rubs her eyes, though she can’t keep them opened. “And the movie?” she manages to ask still half asleep.

“It’s already over. Come on, I’ll take you to Brienne’s.”

“No… why...?” she protests cuddling again to his side. “I’m comfy here…”

Sandor chuckles, pleased. “What about your friend? Thought you didn’t want to leave her alone.”

“Oh, she’s with Pod, she’ll manage without me…”

Sandor tries to think twice about his next step, but his mouth fails him. “Fine, then we better move you to bed.”

Instinctively, Sansa throws her arms around his neck and cracks a sleepy smile when he lifts her up and she settles her face over his shoulder. It already seems a tradition of sorts, to carry her upstairs in his arms, one that he’d like to maintain for… forever really.

Once in the bedroom, he lays her carefully on the bed and sits next to her. Sansa is still half asleep, with her eyes closed, but her arms remain around his shoulders, like she doesn’t want him to go too far. Sandor closes the small distance between them and kisses her, and through her daze she returns it with a groan of surprise. The kiss is long and calm; they taste each other as long as they need, caressing their faces little by little as if knowing them again. Then each one helps the other to undress and slowly, piece by piece, the clothing leaves their bodies to rest on the floor. There are no hurries now, no schedules, plans or people waiting for them. Just time ahead to spend to their will. Their movements are now quiet, unhurried, deliberately slow as they touch and kiss each part of the other until there’s no more pieces of cloth between them, only warm skin in which to delight. They roll over the mattress during their exploration, until they are just a mess of arms, legs and hair, joined by a common wish to enjoy and love each other.

In the darkness of the room, Sandor lets Sansa touch each one the parts of his body that she needs, while his mouth, hands and tongue do their own expedition along her skin. He’s never been so comfortable with a woman before, nor has he taken so much time in the preliminaries. No woman has interested him so much really, no one has managed to make him feel something similar. Sansa holds that power over him, though he’s also beginning to be aware of his effect on her. She’s lose, comfortably enjoying their play. She’s opened herself to him from inside out and is baring not just her body, but her instincts, her core, her true wills and desires. He knows that crystal clear, even if her mouth hasn’t pronounced a word yet; because their language is now that of groans and pants, smiles and glances, caresses and kisses. His hands wander eagerly from her breasts to her butt, play with the hair between her legs and come up again to cup her face. Hers move slowly, making soft circles on his chest, trying to outline his abdomen, caressing his butt then his cock then his abdomen again, guiding his own hands when necessary to the places she wants and that he’s already learning.

He moves on top of her and she leads him until they fit one over the other like the perfect piece of a puzzle. Sansa’s eyes shine in the dark, fixed on him like if he was the only thing she’s ever wanted. There’s no need to ask or to say unnecessary words when Sandor reaches to the nightstand and rummages in it, praying for the forgotten box of condoms to be still there where he left it last time. His fingers finally find it at the bottom of the drawer and with an expertise he didn’t know he possessed, he puts it on in barely seconds. Sansa’s still waiting for him, her eyes attentive of each one of his movements as he couples himself over her again. Her long legs spread along his body as he makes his way inside her, faster that he’d like as his lust is beginning to betray him. However, she doesn’t protest, a long groan leaves her lips when her hips begin to move along with his - up and down, up and down - as he makes love to her.

Hells, it feels so good... Sansa is warm and delicious. Her body arches and moves to find a better fit with his, as if that wasn’t enough. Her perfect tits move along with them and he leans over to kiss - not, to bite - one of them, then the other, then her lips once, twice, again, and again, and again, until her lips look swollen and her nails sink in the skin of his back. Sandor thrusts inside her for a few more moments, though he knows he won’t last much more. He slips his hand between them and takes his fingers just where they are joined, caressing her clit there as he keeps moving. Sansa gasps and grasps his arms as if looking for a hold, then closes her eyes and her breath speeds up. It’s just a few more seconds until she arches her body one last time and cries out her release, and it isn’t until then that Sandor finally comes with a gasp. He finally falls over her, both panting heavily, not willing to let go of one another yet.

They just snuggle beside each other with some more kisses as the only communication between them. Sansa is the first one to fall asleep within his arms. Sandor hugs her tight and cuddles pressed to her after covering them with the duvet. This is their safe place now; a space made of sheets, feathers and warm skin; a secret shelter for just them both. A small place of happiness that he’d never guessed would be under his roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, that's it!! It was one of my favorite chapters so far so hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. If you like it, please, leave a comment or a kudos ;-)
> 
>  [Teaser for ch. 15](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJ1l3wfT97E)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s always warm under Sandor’s thick duvet. So warm that they have learnt to sleep with few clothes on, only covered by skin and feathers.

                                                     

 

**NOVEMBER**

Days pass by among contracts, meetings and paperwork at Tyrell and Associates, talks with Myranda, dinner at her favorite restaurants, high heels, dark suits and waking up too early for her own good. Nothing special, nothing Sansa hasn’t done dozens of weeks before. Weekends, though, are for Invernalia: for the peacefulness, for good cheese and wine, for waking up late, endless breakfasts that finish at lunchtime, and visiting her friends.  But above all, weekends are for Sandor.

Invernalia has now become her little peaceful haven; a refuge from her monotonous working days and the fast life in the city. A place to relax and rest, to love and be loved. A place to be herself, a person without fears or tight schedules, someone who doesn’t need to wear a constant mask of politeness and fake smiles because she can be who she really is.

Despite that her job at Tyrell’s hasn’t decreased a single hour, the work seems somehow lighter now. Or maybe it’s just her who feels that way. Sansa has learnt how to relativize the workload and the heavy mood the office usually gives her. It’s just work; a place to learn and make money, nothing more. And even if she has the worst of weeks, everything lightens when the weekend approaches and Invernalia and Sandor are a little less far away.

Since the weekend Sansa drove to the village to sell the Stark House, she has returned every Friday she has had the chance. It had been hard to say Sandor goodbye again. That Sunday she had woken up completely naked and with Sandor cuddling her, just to make love again. Sansa had never felt so free, so comfortable and so happy. She had never been so relaxed with a man before, nor so aroused, and she had enjoyed as much as she could this newly discovered feeling. Then they had a long breakfast together made of coffee, orange juice, and toast with olive oil, as if trying to extend the hours as much as possible before her inevitable departure.

_“Are you coming back next week? Am I going to see you again little bird?”_

_“I’d love to.”_

It had taken the whole breakfast for Sandor to ask it. Two simple questions that were also flying through her mind throughout the morning, wondering what the answer would be… though there was only one answer for them. He had shown her then a smile of hidden satisfaction and hugged her tight, as if fearing she would leave despite her words. However, the bond was already made. The connection through all those years, the invisible line that had driven their paths together again had inevitably wrapped one to the other, and that was unbreakable. Sansa was aware of it, and she knew Sandor, despite all his fears, too.

That Sunday she had packed her things and left with Randa after an early lunch. Her friend was excited to tell Sansa about her day with Pod, and she managed to infect her enthusiasm. Thus the journey back to the city passed by quickly as they chatted about their weekend. Randa was so excited about having met Pod. They had taken a walk around Invernalia and then he took her to Salinas, where they’d had dinner and stayed partying until late. Randa admitted that she was so tired when she arrived at Brienne’s that she hadn't even noticed Sansa’s absence until morning. Sansa had to tell her about her day and night too, with all kind of details, and they even had to stop the car at a service station to take a drink so they could talk quietly. Sansa usually hadn’t felt comfortable talking about certain things, however that time was different. Confiding certain experiences to Randa somehow made her feel good, as if saying it aloud served for reassuring her as a woman, and also made things more real. Once something is said, it’s as if it had really happened, or so she felt.

Myranda was dazzled by Podrick, though she was too proud to admit it. She had asked Sansa for all kinds of data about her friend, and showed a dreamy smile when remembering the day with him. Sansa told her plenty of anecdotes about Pod from when they were young, avoiding how much he liked to flirt and date with girls so as not to hurt Randa’s feelings.  Randa now checks the phone frequently looking for a message from him, that doesn’t always arrive. She doesn’t text him much either, nor does she visit Invernalia as much as Sansa; she has too much pride - and too much social life in the city - to let him know how invested she really is in him. Pod besieges Sansa with questions whenever they meet at The Wall, probably wondering why his usual charm doesn’t work with a girl like Randa, not realizing she is as hooked as him. They really do make a strange and fun pairing and Sansa is determined to make them work as a couple, though she still hasn’t figured out how.

Despite this new nice routine, there is something that still is wandering through Sansa’s mind that she still doesn’t know how deal with: the family House. She still hasn’t gathered the courage to tell Robb, nor any of her other brothers about her decision. She is very aware that they’ll need the money eventually; Robb and Jon keep talking about their business plan, Bran and Rickon are about to begin college and Ayra… well, she’s going to need it because Sansa can’t imagine her settling down with a traditional job. They’ve been living thanks to their jobs and the money they get from their parents’ life insurance, but that money won’t last forever. If they don’t sell the Stark House, she’ll need a backup plan to get some income, but no idea have come to her mind yet.

 

 

**DECEMBER**

It’s already really cold at Invernalia this month. It doesn’t snow in that part of the country, it’s usually a dense mist what warns the villagers that winter is coming. However, it’s always warm under Sandor’s thick duvet. So warm that they have learnt to sleep with few clothes on, only covered by skin and feathers.

Sansa is usually very busy at work at the end of the year. The company presses the employees to close all the projects on time to be invoiced before the year ends, so she has to work extra hours. That’s why this weekend she has taken her laptop with her to Sandor’s place. He’s kind of busy too; the project at the Town Hall is huge and it’s advancing slower than he’d like. However, he’s also enjoying this new dimension his small one-man company has taken. Sandor learns fast, and in Sansa’s opinion, he’s doing a superb job. So they have spent that Saturday evening working at home, each one with a laptop at one side of the living room table. And it has been more pleasant than she thought.  That way she can help him and Sandor makes her laugh from time to time in return. That really is a much better way to work than in the office.

This morning Sansa was woken up earlier than usual. Sandor has spread his muscular bulk all over the mattress, and it’s a glorious view. A little light is already coming from the dormer window as she spends a while enjoying him and that little moment of peace. Then she turns to him, lightly caresses his chest hair and kisses him in the cheek, then on the jaw, on the mouth, once, twice… until he begins slowly to react to her lips and kiss her back. Sansa moves on top of him and keeps kissing him, wondering if she’ll ever get tired of these mornings of kisses and love. He hugs her, slides a hand to her butt and squeezes it; then, still half asleep, he helps her throw away her t-shirt. He’s already hard when she straddles him and takes him in and is rewarded with a grunt of pleasure. Sansa enjoys being on top of him, moving slowly, pending of all his gestures, of how he eats her with his eyes and how he grabs her waist to anchor her to him, moving along with her hips. _She loves it._ She keeps moving back and forth until he comes with a long moan; then she finishes herself before resting, pressed to him.

“Little bird…I…”

Sansa shuts him up with a kiss.  

\-----

It’s finally Christmas, and it’s the only time of the year that all the Starks reunite. They all have traveled to Robb and Jon’s place to spend the 25th of December together and Sansa is excited and nervous to meet her family. The little ones aren’t little anymore; they are about to begin University. Arya is wilder than ever, and her boyfriend, Gendry, speaks as little as the last time Sansa met him, though they seem to be great together after two years in their relationship. Yesterday afternoon Robb introduced them to his new girl, Arianne, a beauty of dark skin and big black eyes who has left all the family dazzled so far. She seems nice and Robb only has eyes for her. Arianne is staying with her family though, so there’ll be just them and Gendry for Christmas lunch.

Sansa thinks of Sandor, of how he’ll be doing. She misses him and their small routine. She had invited him to come but, as he still had doubts, she thought better not to push him. Sandor is finally spending Christmas with Jaime and Brienne’s family, who are visiting them at Invernalia. He isn’t very comfortable around people he’s just met, and Sansa is aware that probably meeting all the Starks together on such an important day was too much. There’ll be time for him to get to know her brothers and sister. Maybe she even convince them to come visit Invernalia again… maybe in Spring… _yes, that’ll be great._

While Rickon, Bran and Arya set the table, Sansa finally gathers the courage to talk to Robb about the House. Her big brother was going to ask anyway, and there was no need to hide it any longer. Robb listens carefully to her vague explanations about guilt and memories and smells and happy moments in their old home, nodding from time to time.

“I’m sorry, I know you counted on the money… I’m thinking on a solution though, I promise…”

Robb smiles, that wide sincere smile of his with which he’s probably won over Arianne. “It’s been a long time since I last visited Invernalia, that’s probably why it was so easy for me to think about selling the place. But I think I can understand you, sister. The place still has something of us, it’s still part of the Starks, and it’s really the only thing that remains from mum and dad. Maybe you have done the right thing.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, but we’ll need to think of something. That place is expensive to maintain even being uninhabited and we can’t afford more expenses…”

Sansa promises him a thousand times she’ll get a solution, though still has no clue about what it’ll be. However, the topic is quickly forgotten a few moments later once they all sit to eat. Lunch passes by between food and anecdotes, everyone updating the others about their latest news and how they’re doing. Sansa is questioned several times about her frequent visits to Invernalia, until she finally gives up and tells them about Sandor. It’s not as if she was embarrassed of him or something, but it’s been hard to tell her family. Some of them still remember the big scary guy who used to accompany Joffrey. Everything related to the Lannisters is still taken with care and fear, and it takes her a good amount of words to calm them about him. Sandor is not Joffrey, he isn’t even the guy he used to be back then. She’s fine and happy, has never felt better.  However, her face betrays her happiness and in the end, that’s all that matters for her brothers. Ayra still isn’t sure, but she knows it’s only a matter of time before her little sister changes her mind. She’ll have to, when she sees them together.

“I couldn’t eat more!” This is Sandor’s answer when she asks him about his day a couple of hour later. “Brienne’s mother cooks even better than her. That family is amazing, now I know why Jaime loves her so much!”

Sansa laughs at his silly jokes. “We had a great time too, it had been long since the last time we all were together.”

“I miss you, little bird…”

“I miss you too, Sandor….”

However, despite the distance and not being together this week, it’s still one of the happiest days of the year for Sansa.

 

 

**JANUARY**

It’s just five minutes from midnight and they are all ready to receive the New Year. Sansa has come to Invernalia that same afternoon, since the asshole of her ex-boyfriend didn’t allow her to leave the office earlier. Each week Sandor hates that guy more and more. It seems he drowns Sansa in a sea of work just to enjoy how she doesn’t have enough spare time. Garlan takes advantage of the fact that she is hard worker and very responsible and wants to finish all her tasks on time, and Sandor doesn’t like that. It’s been a long time since he thinks she should change jobs or do something on her own, but still doesn't dare propose it to her. It’s not as if she doesn’t value his advice; she does, though who is he to change her life, her routine? Three months don’t change a life, do they?

Jaime fills quickly their glasses with champagne while Val turns on the TV to hear the classic watch of the capital give welcome to the New Year. They’ve all had dinner at Brienne’s before going to The Wall to join the rest of Sansa’s friends to be together in that moment. Jeyne and Beric are there, and Podrick Payne too, though he doesn’t look happy since Myranda didn’t show up along with Sansa. Sansa has excused her, saying that Randa was supposed to spend the night with her family. However, he looks disappointed. Though Sansa says her friend likes the boy, it seems Myranda likes to play him a little. Sandor had never imagined that he’d pity the poor guy.

Sansa wears a golden - short and tight - party dress for the occasion and looks simply astounding. Sandor - and half the bar, save for Jaime and Pod - can’t take his eyes of her. He just wears the shirt he wore for the first time at Salinas last September because he thinks she may like it. After two weeks without seeing her because of the festivities, the family and all, Sandor can only think of driving home, freeing her from that tiny dress and making love to her. However, he’s also enjoying being in that moment there, in the party with their friends and Sansa, living that change of year surrounded by the people he cares about. And that’s a huge step from last year.

“OK, listen everybody, it’s coming!!” Val shouts.

In a few moments the year is gone and a big HAPPY NEW YEAR appears on the screen. Sansa has just hung to his neck and kissed him passionately while everybody is cheering and hugging everybody. However, this is their moment, and they kiss oblivious to the rest of the world as confetti and serpentines fly and the tiny papers tangle in their hair.

“Happy new year, Sandor! I’m so happy to be here!”

Sandor thinks he may melt right know if it wasn’t for Jaime insisting on making a toast that they have to join. 

\-----

“You’re working too much, Sansa. That’s not sane,” Sandor finally dares to tell her when he sees she has left the bed to turn on the laptop in the morning. He’s aware that her work is demanding, but this seems excessive.

“I know but… the deadline of the client… the project…” she tries to excuse herself without any success.

“I know, I know, little bird… but come on,” he says closing the laptop before Sansa presses the button. “It’s New Year’s Day, I just want to waste the day on you, with you and for you.”

Sandor pulls her to the bed again and her smile lights the bedroom. “Fine, you win, Clegane.  Today is for us, just for us,” she grants, as she quickly forgets whatever she had to do between Sandor’s arms and kisses.

“Haven’t you thought about leaving your job for another one less demanding?” Sandor asks, once their love has been satiated.

Sansa rolls under the duvet and sighs looking at the ceiling. “Every day, but…”

“But, what? Is it worthy enough to dedicate so much of your life to it?”

“No, definitely not. It’s just… Where would I work? Tyrell’s is already one the best law firms in the country, every student at college dreams of working there. Also, living in the city is expensive and they pay well…”

“You told me you wanted to work for people, not for big companies. Why not start something on your own?”

“And who would hire me? I still haven’t got too much experience, who would trust in a girl with just her ambitions as her business card?”

Sandor leans on one arm so he can look directly into her eyes. “Me.”

Sansa giggles and cups his face, “You’re too sweet Sandor, but you don’t count. I’ll never charge you anything.”

“Barristan Selmy has too much work at the town hall, he’ll appreciate some help. The Baratheon brothers, with their business growing so much, will need it soon. I’ve heard the school has hired some lawyer that helps them from time to time, though he lives far away and is only available by phone or email.” Sandor has finally caught her attention and she looks really interested in his words. “I already told you that there is no one dedicated to this anywhere near Invernalia. Clients from nearby villages would come too.”

Sansa bites her lower lip, measuring his words. Everything he’s said is true. In Invernalia, she may have enough clients to work in what she likes. He’d take care of that if needed.

“I don’t even have an office, I’d have to rent one…”

“You’ll manage, this village isn’t expensive. I could even make the reformations you’d need.”

“I-I… wow, I’ll need to think of it…” Sansa simply manages to say. “But first, come here. I need to tell you something on the first day of the year…”

Sandor leans toward her and is rewarded with a kiss.

“I think I’m in love with you, Clegane...”

Sandor freezes for a moment; he’s never heard those words before, nor has ever dreamt anyone would ever feel that way for him. However, he _loves_ to hear Sansa say it aloud, loves it so much...

“I love you too, little bird. I love you too…”

 

 

**FEBRUARY**

Sansa hasn’t stopped thinking on Sandor’s idea about working on her own in Invernalia since that day at the beginning of January. They hadn’t talked much about it after their conversation, and she really appreciates it, because she needs to chew on it on her own first.  It’s true that working at Tyrell’s isn’t what she wants to do for the rest of her life, but she’d never thought of being her own employer either. The idea is exciting and scary at the same time. It’ll mean leaving her work, her life, her apartment, and beginning a completely new life in Invernalia. But, what if it doesn’t work and she doesn’t get any clients?  That’s her main fear, because she knows the rest could work.

It’s 1pm and Sansa is already daydreaming about those matters sitting at her desk at the office, imagining how she’ll design her own office if she ever has one, when her phone vibrates on the table. Sandor’s name on the screen is enough to make her have butterflies in her stomach. She takes the phone and slides the screen; the apparently urgent email she was answering can wait a few more minutes.

_“I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight. I already have your birthday present ready.”_

Sansa smiles excited. Tomorrow is Saturday and Sansa’s 25th birthday. She has planned on spending the day with Sandor at Invernalia. If she’d stay, Myranda would probably organize a fancy party full of people she barely knows; however, a simple celebration in the village is fine for her.

_“I’m looking forward to seeing you too.”_ Sansa texts back. _“I’ll pick up the suitcase at the apartment as soon as I’m free from work and leave for Invernalia.”_

_“Great, see you then. I love you, little bird.”_

_I love you_ … She loves hearing it from him, even in a simple text message. Those words still feel like candy in her mouth, and music to her ears when it’s Sandor who says them with his characteristic deep voice.

_“I love you too.”_

It’s later than Sansa would like when they leave for their apartment after her last work meeting. She’s already thinking on the two hours’ drive to Invernalia while Randa complains that Sansa isn’t spending the weekend with her, though she is the one who doesn’t want to join her because she has some event at someone’s place Sansa has never heard about.

“Can you please open the door? I think I forgot my keys…” Randa says after rummaging for a while in her purse at the door of the apartment.

Sansa sighs, tired of the long day at the office and kind of angry for having already lost so much time between some things and others. She finally opens the door and steps inside just to jump when a loud _SURPRISE!!_ is shouted at her from the living room. Pod and Sandor are there, waiting for them since who-knows-when and Sansa just wants to cry of happiness.

“Sandor, Pod… what are you doing here?”

“Randa called us,” Pod says, hugging Sansa and then giving all his attention to a smiling Randa. “Said she wanted to give you a surprise and we couldn’t say no.”

“You…” Sansa turns to Sandor, “You lied to me!”

“Nah, I just kept a little information for myself.” he replies as he buries Sansa in his arms. “Your friend here can be very convincing, you know?”

“I know, thank you for coming…” Sansa kisses Sandor before watching how Randa grants her a huge satisfied smile.

“Ok, lovebirds, rest a little and unpack your luggage,” Randa urges. “And be ready at 8pm because we have a meeting with the rest of the people.  Or did you think I was going to lose an opportunity to prepare a party?” she teases Sansa with a wink before taking Pod by the hand. “Come on honey, I’ll tell you where you can leave your things.”

Despite Sansa’s initial reluctance, they really have a good time that night. Randa has organized a cocktail party with some of their mutual friends at a downtown bar they both like. Sandor looks splendid to her eyes with a brand new shirt he’s wearing and he doesn’t go unnoticed among the people. He towers above them all and everybody is curious to know about the guy who accompanies her. Sansa introduces Sandor to some friends, some are from the office, others from college, though, as she imagined, Sansa doesn’t know most of the people that have come. She knows Randa can’t do something simple and discreet and at least she seems to know everybody there. Sansa wonders if Sandor is improving his social skills, since he doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable and even chats with the people. However, there is always a protective arm around her waist and he never leaves her side.

Podrick seems to be having a good time too, and he peeks at Randa from time to time, looking for her attention. Though she is a social animal and moves in those kind of events like fish in the water, Sansa notices how her friend is constantly aware of Pod giving him his space next to her. They even hold hands in front of people, and they steal a kiss from time to time when they think nobody's looking. Sandor seems to have improved his first impression of Pod and even seems to like them together. Sansa is happy for them too, and likes that they have finally found their perfect dynamic.

The night ends among dancing, drinks and laughs, and in the end, Sansa has to take off her high heels in the taxi that takes them back home. Once at the apartment, Sandor looks huge in her small bed, though they fall asleep laughing about the best moments of the day. The weekend has just begun and she’s already exhausted, excited and tipsy all at the same time. Must be the toll of happiness.

\-----

Sandor is having a shower before Sansa wakes up. He’s still assimilating the idea that he’s there, in her apartment, a place that so far only belonged to her. He has been reluctant to come to visit her because of his bad skills with people and fear of novelty, but mainly because he’s always felt he’d never could give her something similar to the pace of life Sansa has at the city. She hasn’t insisted much either, since going to Invernalia was her way of getting away from the office, relaxing and recharging batteries, so she hasn’t minded at all driving there all the weekends she could. However, despite his initial reluctance, he agreed to Myranda’s invitation. It’s exciting to have the opportunity to know about this part of her life, her favorite places or simply going for a walk with her. As much as she has rediscovered Invernalia, Sandor is aware that she still feels like a city girl and enjoys living there.

Sandor leaves the bathroom with a simple white towel wrapped to his waist to find Sansa’s still asleep. Today is her birthday and she has promised him they’ll spend a quiet day together since she already had her share of activity last night. Sandor gets into the bed and cuddles her from behind, as he knows she likes so much. She stirs and presses her back to him. He has not ceased to be amazed at how well they fit together, as if they are made one for the other on purpose, like two pieces from a puzzle.

“Happy birthday, little bird,” he whispers in her ear.

“Uuummm…” she moans as an answer while she turns to him to snuggle against his chest. He caresses her slowly until she reacts to his touches and they begin kissing until he lays her under him to make love to her as slowly as he can. He wonders if he’ll ever get tired of this, of being inside her, of touching her soft curves and tasting her skin. He thinks he could be doing it for the rest of his life, until they are old and their skin is wrinkled and they sit at the porch to read messages from their grandsons. Sansa moans and groans with each thrust and Sandor feels this should be his birthday, because he’s the one who is receiving a present.

\-----

Sansa has booked a table at what she says is her favorite restaurant. She looks beautiful with her woolen dress and her knee-high boots. They have gone for a quiet walk around the neighborhood she lives in while Sansa got calls from all her brothers, and there are a lot. Sandor thinks he should meet them someday, if she’d like it.

The restaurant is nice, a modern place crafted from an old building with an international menu that seems tasty. Sansa chooses the dishes she wants him to try and he lets her, since he’s so hungry he could eat the whole list.

“So, how’s the work at the town hall going?”

“Fine, though it’s getting bigger than we thought. Selmy doesn’t stop having new ideas, but I think it’ll look great in the end.  I may even need to hire someone else.”

“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”

The waiter brings them the bottle of wine they’ve chosen, and pours a little so he can try and approve it before serving the glasses.

“Listen Sansa, I’ve been talking with Barristan Selmy. Despite all the work we’re doing at the place, it seems it won’t be enough for his plans for the town hall, the building isn’t big enough. That’s why Selmy is thinking of renting a place for some of the new departments he wants to create.”

Sansa listens carefully and looks like she’s beginning to understand where he’s going. “So…”

“So, why don’t you rent him your family house?  It’s big, it’s downtown, and it’s been a symbol for the village for years. I tell you, he’d like the idea.”

“Yes… We still need the money… this could be a good idea...”

Sandor has been chewing up that possibility for some days now, knowing it’d solve a big problem for her, and he’s glad to see Sansa happy with the idea.

“Well, give it a thought, talk to your big brother. I can tell Selmy you’ll call him in a few days. I’m sure he won’t say no, and he pays well.”

“Yes please! Thank you so much, Sandor! You’ve just improved what couldn’t be a better birthday.”

Sandor grants her a smirk as his thoughts turn to the present he has for her. He’s been thinking until the last moment of giving it to her or not, wondering what her reaction would be, if she’d like a traditional present better, like a purse, a book, a bracelet or some other kind of feminine thing. However, he’s never been good at buying presents - Jaime still laughs when remembering that Christmas in which Sandor gave them the ugliest painting they’ve ever seen. They never hanged it and he knows it is locked in some forgotten closet somewhere in the B&B. Though at least, this is something that comes from him, not from a shop. He touches one last time the poorly-wrapped parcel in his pocket as if to make sure it's still there.

Sansa’s eyes shine when the waiter brings the desserts. “OK, Clegane, so… what’s that present you told me about? Come on…” she looks excited and claps like a child waiting for her present. He rummages in his pocket and finally grabs the courage to give it to her. The small package is comes in a bright red paper that’s already wrinkled. Sandor scolds himself for being so clumsy with those kind of things; hells, his hands may be skilled when using tools but they are useless for fine works.

“What’s this?” Sansa has finally opened it and holds a small key over her palm. There is also a card that she reads aloud.

_“Although the destination may be the same, it’s better to walk the path with a partner.”_

She looks at him all blue eyes and seems she’s holding her breath, not knowing what to say or what that even means, and for a moment Sandor fears she’s going to run away from the restaurant.

“This is the key to my house,” he explains. “I love you, Sansa. I’d love to live with you, not only on the weekends. Rent your house and come to live with me in Invernalia. We’ll make you an office, maybe even at a part of your family’s house. Start a business of your own and begin working on something that really fills you. It may be hard at the beginning, but I’m sure you’ll get it. I’ve seen you working, you’re good at your job. Those assholes at the company you work at won’t see it in a hundred years, but Invernalia will.”

“I-I….”

“Listen,” he tries to explain passing nervously a hand through his hair. “I know you like living here, but we could come to the city whenever you want, to visit Randa, go shopping, visiting clients, or simply going out, whenever you need...”

Sansa finally blinks and smiles and the knot in Sandor’s stomach begins to undo though she seems about to shed a tear.

“I’d love to have my own business, at least I have to try or I’ll forever regret it. And I’d also love to wake up next to you every morning, not only on the weekends, Sandor.  I really would.”

Sandor would like to throw away the dessert, the glasses and all the things that are over the table to cross the distance that separates them. He reaches out to her and squeezes her hand instead. That must be how being in love is, when you feel so full of the other person and can’t think of your life without her. So definitely, today was Sandor’s birthday too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Well, seems that things are finally moving forward for our lovebirds ;-) 
> 
> Sandor's present with the key is something that has happen in my life. A friend of mine gave that same present to his girlfriend (with the card and everything) to ask her to go live with him. Sadly, he died in an accident last year while skiing so, in addiction of being a nice gift, it’s my way make him a small homage. I think he might it like wherever he is now :)
> 
> It's going to be just two or three more chapters until the end. Kit and I are working a lot on this, though next chapter may take still a few weeks. However, don't worry because I've already written almost until the end so I won't leave this story unfinished.
> 
> Thanks a lot for still being there :) Hope you like this chapter's structure, and if so, please don't be shy and leave a comment!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s the one who has really known happiness during these last months, the one who is having a better life than he’s ever been able to dream. The one whose whole life has changed because of love.

                                                             

 

**MARCH**

Dealing with Barristan Selmy was harder than Sansa has expected. He is a reasonable man, polite and intelligent, but he’s also a tough negotiator. During the weeks following her birthday, she’s had several meetings with Invernalia’s mayor to talk about the possibility of renting the Stark House to the Town Hall. Barristan liked the idea since the beginning. However, to reach an agreement on the conditions was the hardest part. After several meetings in which the two of them worked hard to guard their own interests, they finally agreed to the terms that best suited both of them and an agreement was settled.

The rent was a good one, really. Sansa had the upper hand on that point, since hers was the only building available for rent in Invernalia’s downtown. They disagreed more on the terms of payment. In the end, Sansa got three months’ rent in advance that she expects to share with Robb and Jon so they can finally launch their business plan.  She and Barristan also agreed that the upstairs floor of the house will still remain in Stark hands. That’s where Sansa plans on having her own office. She has already begun designing it with Sandor, and she can’t be more excited. He’ll do the work and provide the materials and she’ll help as much as possible. Her old room, the one with the balcony, will be a spacious office, with a big working table and several shelves. The boys’ room will be a meeting room with a small place to receive clients and have a coffee or lunch if necessary. And finally, Ned and Cat’s bedroom will remain as it is now in case any of her brothers want to come to visit. She is so excited about the idea, and Sandor is so invested in making all her ideas come true over the plans he’s already preparing, that sometimes she even wonders how she can sleep with so many things in her head.

Robb is delighted with the idea of renting the house, and he was the one telling the rest of the family about it. He is glad to know there’ll be some income for them, though he and Sansa agreed that after those first months, the amount of rent they’ll receive will go mainly to Bran and Rickon’s University tuition and for the family members who need it the most in every moment.

Sansa was the one in charge of writing down this agreement between the Stark family and the Town Hall. It took her all her spare time for a whole week, but that became her first work ever outside Tyrell’s and Associates. The beginning of a dream she was barely able to glimpse a few months ago.

 

**APRIL**  

Trying to find a quiet moment to tell Garlan that she’s leaving the job seems almost impossible. The man is always busy with meetings, reports or whatever other excuse. It seems as if he somehow knows her intentions and so he’s trying to delay the conversation with Sansa, all the while giving her even more workload. Finally, one Monday morning after throwing another weekend away buried among Garlan’s tasks and a long talk with Sandor about what her next steps should be, Sansa finally gathers the courage to burst into his office without any appointment.

 “I’m leaving Tyrell’s, Garlan. I can’t work here any longer.”

She is clear and concise because she can’t and doesn’t want to lengthen the situation. It’s not a surprise her answer is delivered along with Garlan’s poker face.

“You know you’re throwing away your professional career, don’t you? Whatever you’re doing, it won’t take you where you can get working here.”

“Look Garlan… I don’t care. The decision is already made. You’ll have my resignation letter tomorrow.”

Sansa turns to the door, ready to leave now and enjoy of this little victory before he says something that turns it sour.

“Sansa…” He calls when she’s reaching the door knob. “I’m sorry,” She turns to look at him, surprised to hear those words coming from him, though grateful at the same time. “I haven't been able to tend to you better. I wish you the best in whatever project you begin.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”  She is sincere and likes that this farewell isn’t as bitter as she has thought. Garlan isn’t a bad guy; it is just that, what he represents, isn’t for her.

\-----

Telling Randa was harder. They’ve been living together for a long time and Sansa loves sharing the apartment with her and the dynamic they’ve created through the years. Sansa has been thinking about the best way to approach the topic for days before finding the courage to tell her.  Randa does likes her job at Tyrell’s; she’s a _“work hard, play hard”_ kind of girl, dealing as well with the clients and the hard rhythm of a big company as she does in her social life. She was born to do this, unlike Sansa.

Finally, she gets to the subject during dinner. Sansa babbles on and on about how she needs to do something different, to begin a new page in her life, to have a quiet life and many other things, until Randa finally silences her.

“It’s OK Sansa, you don’t owe me any explanation. I always knew you don’t belong to this company. This was just a medium until you found your real place.” Randa speaks quietly, trying to reassure her. She smiles and Sansa knows, she is happy for her. “Besides, you’re in love! I didn’t expect you to live with me forever, sweetheart. You need to flee back to Sandor and enjoy of a life together. He’s good for you.”

“Oh Randa…” Sansa is about to shed a tear when she throws herself into a hug with her friend. “What am I going to do without you?”

Randa laughs and hugs her tight, trying to hold her own tears. “Don’t worry about me. Live your life once and for all!! I’ll be here for you two, and Invernalia isn’t so far. Besides, now I’ll have another excuse to visit your village, you know...”

\-----

Two weeks later Sansa is saying goodbye to her coworkers at Tyrell’s. Not that she is very sad about this farewell, she hasn’t been able to bond much with any of them because of their hard competitiveness in the business. A quick lunch, some hugs and a little gift from her department, and her relationship with the company is over. She has also discussed her new situation with some of the clients she used to work with. Most of them seem disappointed that she won’t continue with their projects although in most cases it is Garlan or Myranda who will take her place. However, among all the calls she’s had with clients that week, there are two who still want it to be her who leads their projects. So Sansa has agreed to continue working with them as a freelancer from her new office. It’s good to know her work is so valued among the clients, and also a relief, because she’ll be having some income until she gets new ones. It seems she won’t have time to get bored.

 

**  
** **MAY**

Sandor drives his old van along the long one-way road that leads from Invernalia to the city, a bit embarrassed to take this vehicle anywhere near Sansa’s place. However, they need the space the van provides, because Sansa is already packing all her stuff and he’s helping her to move everything to Invernalia in a couple of days.

He can’t barely believe it.  He’s been a loner all his life, never thought of sharing his life with anybody, nor that any woman would like to wake up every day next to his ugly face. And suddenly Sansa reappears in his life, not only to turn it upside down, but to improve it. Sandor is pretty sure many people would think her foolish for being with a man like him, leaving her fancy job and moving to a lost old village… Hells! If she is happy, who cares about other people? Although it may seem incredible, Sansa has somehow blossomed during the last months. She has needed to heal from her past to discover what she wants for her future. Sandor is part of that future, as strange as it may seem even for himself. He is determined to make her happy, to help her reach her full potential in whatever she wants to work, either working as a lawyer or making bouquets, because she has the energy and the will to achieve whatever she wants, and he’ll be by her side to help her make it become real.

They have already begun working together about the reformation the first floor her house needs. Sansa has a thousand ideas, each more spectacular than the other. It has been Sandor who has brought all those ideas to the reality of setting them over the plans, until they agreed to a final design that is both modern and functional, with a pinch of old fashioned style the house itself offers. That mixture between old and new, memories and future, that Sansa loves so much is what Sandor is already working on, and soon she’ll be settled there working for those clients she’s kept from her current job, and hopefully for the new ones to come.

Living with Sansa, working with her… hells, it still looks like a dream to him. It already seemed a dream, every weekend she showed up at Invernalia, her face tired from driving but with that bright smile she keeps just for him that lightens his life. It seems unreal when sometime during the week, Sandor finds her stuff here and there around his house; the toothbrush, her shampoo, a couple of panties in the drawer among his boxes, a shirt or a sweater over the couch, or even her preferred food in the fridge. Simple things that reminds him that yes, she was there and she’ll come back.

Sandor has already made room for her in his wardrobe and has even built a closet just for her clothes, shoes, and things in a part of the living room that was wasted so far. That’ll be a nice surprise for Sansa, he hopes. He doesn’t mind if she wants to redecorate something or add her touch to the house, he doesn’t care what she does as long as she’s doing it with him. Sansa makes him happy, full, complete, feelings somehow new for him that he’s eagerly and selfishly enjoying.

Sansa and Myranda’s apartment is a mess of boxes, suitcases and backpacks of all kind of sizes among which he has to jump to reach his little bird. Sandor likes her even in a track-suit and a messy ponytail as she is now, tired, happy and nervous at the same time. He kisses her as if it had been years and not just a week since the last time they met and lets her bury herself against his chest as she likes so much to do. Randa’s hug comes later and then he helps the girls to pack what’s left and waits for them to get ready. If today is going to be Sansa’s last day here, her friend wants to make it worthy. And Sandor can’t deny them a girl’s night out all to themselves.

It’s strange to be on his own in what’s been Sansa’s home for so long. Not that it is much of a home now, considering all the packages that are covering the floor, but still. Here’s where she has cried, laughed, suffered, and been happy almost since she left Invernalia and her parents died; and in a day she’ll move, leaving behind all this. Sandor realizes how important Sansa’s decision is and how much she must love him to change her life so much. However, he’s going to do his best so she doesn’t ever regret this choice, not even once.

It’s late when they return from their night out, giggling and then shushing when they open the door, trying not make noise and failing at the attempt. Sandor is waiting for Sansa in her bed and watches how she undresses herself and slides quietly onto the mattress next to him. She’s warm when she hugs him from the back.

 “Sandooor…” Sansa whispers. “Are you asleeeeep?”

“I was... Did you two have fun?”

“Yes...”

“Good. Now sleep, tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Sandooor…”

“What?”

“I’m looking forward to going to sleep next to you every day…”

“Me too, little bird, me too.”

Sandor could have shed a tear in that moment if it wasn’t for the tiredness that was beginning to make a dent on him. Tomorrow they’ll move all of Sansa’s stuff to his house in Invernalia, which won’t be just _his_ home anymore, but _theirs_. They will order them among his own stuff, and then they’ll decorate Sansa’s new office at the Stark House. A new life for both of them is about to begin.

 

**  
**

**JUNE**

Sansa’s new office looks just as she’s always dreamt it would. A comfortable space on the first floor of which had been her family house, where she can work and receive clients if necessary. The office is spacious and bright and now, instead of a sign saying “FOR SALE” hanging from the balcony, there’s another one: “STARK LAW FIRM.”  The mere view of it makes Sansa proud. She now shares the house with the Town Hall. Barristan Selmy has used part of the space he’s rented from her as Invernalia’s tourism office and the other part as an office for his accounting department. It’s fine for her as long as the mayor keeps their agreement, and it seems the man is as pleased with the situation as she is.

So much has happened in her life to get to this moment! She’d never dared to think she’d ever have her own office, but here she is, alone against a job she likes, making the best of her skills. Not that she isn’t scared; however, knowing there’s people who trust her makes her continue with this new project in her life with more confidence. Since she moved to Invernalia, Sansa’s been working for the two clients she kept from her previous job at Tyrell’s, and so far both of them look satisfied with how she’s leading their business. During the last few weeks she’s had to travel a couple of times to the city to meet with them, and last week it was one of them who traveled to meet her. That was her first meeting in the new office and it was a success. She’s also begun doing small jobs for the Town hall; contracts, some consultancy, checking legal documents… anything they think she can be of help with, they ask her. And she still has a pending meeting with the school principal, to see if they can collaborate together. Definitively, she has no time to get bored, though she’s now the one who marks the schedules and the workload and in doing so, is beginning to finally really enjoy what she’s doing.

Her routine is easy. Sandor likes getting up early, usually before the sun is up, so he wakes her with a kiss before he’s ready to leave. Sansa always tries to tease him into coming back to the bed again. Some days she even wins, though most of the time they just kiss and hug for a while before Sandor leaves for work. Then she has a shower, gets a coffee to go and leaves for the office. Sometimes Sandor remains working at home, though she leaves anyway so they are not distracted. Just seeing him a few minutes in the morning, makes her start the day in a good mood. Then she works in the office for several hours until lunch time. Some days she leaves to have lunch with Jeyne next to the school. Others, Jaime or Brienne come and they improvise using the meeting room as a dining room. If Sandor is available, they try to meet at home to have lunch together, though that’s not always possible. Sansa still has a lot of work, but fortunately it’s not like it was before. There is always time for dining with Sandor, or with friends, or going for a walk, or watching a movie together, or take a motorcycle ride through the countryside… She’s learning how to ride Sandor’s big bike, something she’s never imagined she’d like so much. Feeling the engine roar, the wind in her face… make her feel kind of powerful. Sandor laughed the day she told him all excited, and the next day he gave her a motorcycle helmet just for her.

Above all, the best part of her new life at Invernalia is definitely spending time with the person she loves. Talking about their day, helping each other in their respective works, planning what to do on the weekends, thinking on decorations for their home, or simply lying together on the couch watching a series or a movie… everything is new for her, though it just simply feels right, as it should have ever been. Especially going to bed every day next to Sandor, make love with him, rediscovering sex with him, falling asleep within his arms, or hugged to his strong body, waking up earlier than him and covering him with kisses, having long breakfast on the weekends, and endless showers together. Those are the things that make her feel alive, that make life worthwhile, that really tell her that this was a well-used day and that she’s made the best decision. Because this is the life she never knew she needed. 

\-----

Sansa’s brothers are arriving this weekend and Sandor can’t be more nervous. It’s been already several months since they’ve been together and almost two since she moved to Invernalia, though for one reason or another there has still been no opportunity to meet her family. They all live far from the village and have their own lives, which makes it difficult to meet. However, her older brothers have finally decided to visit her and are coming for the first time in almost six years to Invernalia.  Robb and Jon have been working hard in their new business - some consultancy thing Sandor does not quite understand completely - and now it seems they finally have a few days off. There is no doubt that having more Starks around would make people gossip about their return, though that’s not his main concern. For Sansa this visit is very important, and Sandor is nervous because he wants to create a good impression for her family. He’s aware that probably they still remember he was part of the bunch of assholes that accompanied Joffrey Lannister when he dated and treated their sister like shit. So ensuring that they leave behind that image of him is Sandor’s main goal for the days to come.   

Sansa has booked a room at Brienne’s for Jon, while Robb and his girlfriend are staying at the Stark House, in the room that’s been saved on the upstairs floor for when this moment arrives. Sansa is nervous too; she has already cleaned up the entire house three times and has discretely chosen Sandor’s shirt for the occasion - as if he hadn’t already thought for a whole week what he should wear.  Finally, the two of them drive to the B&B to pick up them; driving faster than they should, excited and nervous all at the same time. Sansa looks gorgeous in a light floral dress with boots, and he looks… well, just as neat as he could manage. In the end, it’s not going to be his looks that will make them like him better.

The three of them have already arrived and are talking with Jaime and Brienne in the living room when they enter the house and Sansa runs to them. The two guys hug her lovingly while Sandor and Arianne, who is Robb’s beautiful girlfriend, wait in the background until the family reunion ends and they are properly introduced.

“Nice to meet you, Sandor,” Robbs tells him as he vigorously shakes his hand. “We were looking forward to meeting you.”

“Eerr… nice to meet you too, guys.” Sandor manages to answer as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Sansa has told me a lot about you, and that new business you have just launched.”

“Oh, yes. It’s been hard, but I think we finally got it. Thanks to your help, little sister,” Jon says.

“It’s nothing…” Sansa blushes and smiles, happy to have so many beloved ones around, and takes Sandor’s hand. “Come on, we still have to drop off your luggage at home, Robb. You’re going to find the House changed but, I hope you like the room that’s ready for you.”

Sansa’s brothers enter the Stark House with the same reverence they’d go into a temple. It must be hard for them, Sandor realizes, to face their memories coming here after so long, just as Sansa did last September. They walk quietly among the rooms, looking carefully at everything, though it has changed after being occupied by the Town Hall. Sansa shows them her office and the meeting room; they are genuinely interested in her new life as a freelance lawyer and look really proud of their sister. Robb and Arianne finally leave their luggage in the room which was his parents’ bedroom while the rest wait for them to unpack in Sansa’s meeting room.

Sandor notices how much Sansa and Robb resemble one another; both have the same auburn hair, blue eyes, and that big smile able to light any place they are in. Jon, on the other hand, is more reserved and quiet. His black eyes look intently when they fix on something or someone and also has the same look and melancholic aura of Ned Stark. Sandor remembers them vaguely from their teenage years, accompanying Sansa or their parents, though he doesn’t recall having interacted with them until now - which is probably for the best.

They spend the day walking quietly around Invernalia, rediscovering its corners, streets and buildings; comparing them with their memories. Sandor notices some people peeking at them from their home portals or through shop windows, gossiping about how much they resemble their parents, even more now that the three of them are together. However, none of the siblings seem to care. Robb walks with an arm around the waist of his girlfriend, pointing at things and telling her stories about when they were children. Sansa never lets go of Sandor’s hand, always being aware of them and showing them new places they still don’t know or that have changed since the last time they were in the village. With his hands in his pockets, Jon walks near Sansa asking her questions here and there, but mostly watching everything through those big black eyes of his. The walk is nice and helps for everybody to feel comfortable and for the two guys to let quietly sink their past into their skin again.

They all have dinner at Sandor’s house, which isn’t his anymore, but more a Stark camp now. Sansa has been planning this meal all week and it’s now time to display all the skills learnt since she’s lived with Sandor. Fortunately, everything goes as she has planned, and they have a nice dinner sitting on the porch, drinking wine and eating all kinds of dishes Sansa has prepared with Sandor’s help until the wee hours of night. Sansa is already a little tipsy when her brothers and Arianne leave, so Sandor lets her go to bed while he takes care of the dishes and the mess that’s the kitchen now. An hour later, he slides under the sheets to feel Sansa’s warm skin and kisses her shoulder earning a soft grunt for her part.

“Thank you for this day, Sandor…” she mutters taking his hand to her belly. Sandor wonders why she would say that, if she is the one who makes everything possible, though he just rubs her belly as she likes so much for a while before falling asleep.

Sansa spends the next day with her family while Sandor remains at home working on some stuff that has to be ready on Monday. He finally joins them in the afternoon and they all head to The Wall to meet Sansa’s friends and have a drink and something for dinner. Their group seems to fill the bar, with so many Starks around, Jeyne and Dondarrion and even Jaime and Brienne. Sansa looks happy, flying from one group to the other, chatting with everybody, trying to make sure that all of them are comfortable. Just to see her like this is already worth passing the scrutiny of her brothers, and Sandor thinks that maybe they should come more often.

Jeyne is talking with the girls about the last details of their wedding, which is just in a few weeks. Jon seems to be flirting with Val at the bottom of the bar and Jaime, Robb, and Beric are engaged in a business conversation Sandor can’t participate in at all, so he decides to ask for a beer from Val’s new waitress.

“Nice place,” Robb tells him. He’s approached the bar to ask for a drink too. “Don’t remember there was any fancy place like this when I still lived here.”

“Yeah, Val did a pretty nice job here…” Sandor sips his beer, feeling kind of weird, not knowing what else to say, while Robb lays comfortable against the bar and watches the place and their friends.

“You know, you always had a horrible reputation in this village, Clegane, and I never liked you,” the guy begins frankly; and Sandor can’t blame him because Sansa’s brother is right. “When my sister told us that she was dating you, I almost had a heart attack. But she looked happy, and that reassured me. Then she told us she was leaving her job and moving to Invernalia with you, and the heart attack came back!” Robb smiles and watches for Sandor’s reaction, though he chooses not to say a word yet. “However, I come here and see you two together, see the life you’ve created, her new job, your home, how immensely happy she looks now… I haven’t seen her like that in years, Clegane. Never, I’d dare to say.” 

They look at Sansa, who is chatting with the girls and shoots a glance and a smile in their direction. It’s true that she looks happy, that she looks prettier, that she’s bloomed in that small place of the world. _Love can change many things_ ; Sandor would like to tell him.

“That,” Robb says pointing at her, “that’s in part because of you. You’ve allowed her to develop her true self, and for that I’m grateful. Welcome to the family!” he finally says patting Sandor’s shoulder and having a long pull from his beer. Sandor chuckles and drinks too, kind of satisfied. It’s good to know your girlfriend’s family is on your side, even once they’ve met you.

\-----

It’s Sunday afternoon and they have decided to rest for a while on the porch, watching how Invernalia’s sky turns yellow, orange and red during the sunset. Sansa had made an attempt to work a little to advance something for tomorrow, but Sandor took her laptop from her hands before it was too late. It’s good that she feels so responsible now that she works on her own, though there’ll be time enough to catch up with work during the week. After a whole weekend with her brothers, now it’s time for them, for relaxing, for being alone for a while at the end of the week. Rob, Jon, and Arianne left an hour ago, delighted with their visit to Invernalia, promising they’ll come back, although Sansa still looks sad to see them leave.

Sandor sits next to her on the steps of the porch and throws an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him.

“They like you,” Sansa tells him, resting her head on his shoulder, her sight fixed on the horizon.

“I like them too,” Sandor replies, and it’s the truth. “We can invite them to come again, during Salinas’s street fair. I think they’d enjoy it.”

“That’d be great...”

“And we can visit them whenever you want, too,” he offers, feeling how she smiles though he can’t see it.

“I’m so happy Sandor… I’m really, really happy…”

Sandor chuckles and kisses her forehead. He’s the one who has really known happiness during these last months, the one who is having a better life than he’s ever been able to dream. The one whose whole life has changed because of love.

 

**  
**

**JULY**

“Come on, wake up!”

Sansa is so nervous that she needs to wake up Sandor to share her excitement with someone. Sandor grunts and turns in the bed, clearly upset for being disturbed so early on a Saturday morning.

“Come on, we need to get ready!” Sansa insists, shaking him with small success.

“Grrrr…” he complains, finally opening his eyes. “It's not even your own wedding!”

Of course it’s not; today is Jeyne and Beric’s wedding day.  They are invited, and Sansa has been preparing her outfit for weeks for this day, so she’s not going to be late.  Not even for Sandor.

“Don’t be so nervous, little bird, we’ll be on time at the church,” he calms her with a grin while he pulls her to him and buries her under the sheets again. “Besides, you always look great to me… let me help you with that...” Sandor teases her as he begins kissing her neck and taking off her nightgown until Sansa surrenders to his attentions and forgets the hurry between his arms, tongue, and warm kisses. Maybe he’s right and the preparations for the day can still wait a little longer…

After a quick breakfast and a shower together where they lose even more time, Sandor gets ready in a few minutes. He looks absolutely gorgeous in his new dark grey suit, white shirt and dark red tie. The suit was tailor-made at the city and it fits him like a glove. Sansa’s mouth makes an “o” for a while before turning to a mischievous smile, already thinking on undressing him at the end of the day.

“Ey, stop looking at me that way and hurry up, little bird!” Sandor urges her.

Sansa resumes her makeup and manages to finish her hairdo at her third attempt - a long braid over her right shoulder adorned with some flower pins - before putting on her new dress. When she finally goes downstairs, it’s Sandor’s turn to be impressed, though it seems like he’s already undressing her with his eyes, too. Sansa is wearing a long silver dress with strapless neckline that she chose with Myranda’s help some weeks ago. The dress adjusts to from her bust to her waist, to open from there to a tulle skirt up to the middle of her legs. The outfit is completed with a couple of shiny silver peep-toes matching the dress.

“How do I look?” she dares to ask, twisting the end of her red braid.

“Hells girl, you look like you’re going to take all the attention from the bride…”

“Don’t be silly, Sandor!” she laughs, throwing her arms around his neck and leaving a pair of red lips on his burned cheek. “You are the one who will eclipse the groom. You look terribly hot...”

Sandor’s lustful expression makes hard to leave his side, though they still need to leave for Invernalia’s church before the bride arrives.

Their friends are already waiting for them outside the church. Jaime looks awesome in a dark suit, and Brienne too, though it still feels strange to see her wearing a dress. Myranda comes on the arm of a smiling Pod, who looks proud to be by the side of one of the most stunning girls among the wedding’s guests. She looks happy too in her too-tight red dress and her too-high shoes. After the tug-of-war that were their first months together, Randa and Pod seem to have found their rhythm, leaving each other the space they both needed. It took them long enough to change their views about relationships and recognize to themselves that they couldn’t live without one another. Now the city girl and the village boy seem inseparable.

A bit farther from their group, greeting all the guests that are arriving, is a nervous Beric. The provincial judge looks handsome in his black tuxedo. Tall and tanned, he stands out over the many people that crowded the interior of the church. Because of his job he has many commitments, and that’s why they couldn’t celebrate a more intimate wedding, as Jeyne had wanted.

When everyone is finally inside the church, the bride arrives. Visibly moved and nervous, Jeyne Poole walks slowly next to her father along the central hall until she arrives at the altar where Beric is waiting for her. Sandor doesn’t seem very interested in the ceremony, but Sansa can’t help but squeeze his hand when the priest finally says _I declare you husband and wife_ , and almost sheds a tear when they finally kiss. She is so happy for her friend! That’s what Jeyne has wanted ever since they began dating boys; to marry her knight in shining armor. And Beric couldn’t be more in love with her.

After the ceremony, they move to where the lunch is taking place. The restaurant is an ancient homestead on the outskirts of Salinas. It has a big garden where the tables are set, all beautifully decorated for the occasion with rural details, flowers, and even gifts for the guests. Sandor seems to be having a good time with all their friends and Sansa likes that. A year ago, he’d probably decline to come, or he’d be uncomfortable in that suit surrounded by so many people. However, he’s learnt how to deal with these situations and even enjoy of them. Soon he’s making silly toasts with Pod and laughing aloud to all of Jaime’s classical jokes.

\-----

Myranda makes a witty comment and winks and eye at him from the other side of the round table where they are, and Sandor can’t help but grin at her. Sansa’s friend is smart and sassy, and he has grown to like her. After all those years thinking he was just an empty headed boy, he even likes Podrick too. Sandor watches her friends - no, _their_ friends - the nice place they are in, the new happily married couple, the nice meal, the beautiful woman he’s accompanying sitting next to him, and realizes he likes everything he sees around. He’s enjoying the wedding banquet, is having fun with people he barely knew and did not want to meet some months ago, and feels comfortable with all these people that have become part of his life lately. Sandor has never had this, never thought he’d even enjoy it and there he is, taking pleasure in this new life Sansa and him have created during these last months in Invernalia. Hells, how much can change a man’s life simply by stopping being angry with the world all the time… 

After the dessert, the girls run to take some pictures with Jeyne before the dancing starts, while Jaime, Pod and him remain with Beric for a while. The groom has already loosened his tie and looks more relaxed now and less worried about how the party is going. They congratulate him and have a glass of champagne together until some guests from another table claim Beric’s attention.

Before the sun sets, hundreds of small bulbs light over the garden to the surprise of the guests, who receive the little spots of light with claps and a murmur of astonishment, before filling the dance floor where a band has already begun playing. Sandor joins Jaime for a drink at the bar, peering among the crowd where their girls are. They are already dancing with the bride, laughing and clapping and spinning around, having a really good time.

“Taking ideas for your own wedding, Clegane?” Jaime teases him.

“WHAT?? Stop drinking, Lannister,” he grunts, taking a long pull from a cocktail he doesn’t remember having asked for.

Jaime shrugs. “Just wondering. Although you see her now every day, it still seems like you’re going to consume her from staring at her that way.”

Sandor frowns and grunts again, then looks for Sansa, in the middle of these people, her beautiful dress shining among them with her own light, and it’s true that he can’t take her eyes from her. Weddings, rings, and those kind of things are issues that have never crossed Sandor’s mind so far. All he’s ever wanted was that she is the last person he sees before falling asleep, and the first one when he wakes up. To make her breakfast on the weekends. To listen to how she explains a new work project. To make love to her when she comes back after a long day at the office. To lick her skin. To take care of her. To worship her. To be by her side when she discovers her first wrinkle and make her laugh at her more than probably worry. Sansa keeps dancing with her friends, her mane a red flame among the people - the hairdo that took her so long to finish already lost to the wind - oblivious to his thoughts, happy, beautiful, bright. 

_You know I've been looking at you for a while_

_I have to dance with you today…_

The band plays a new song that’s become pretty popular that summer, a catchy melody with hot lyrics that everybody seems to love and that Sansa acknowledges with a smile before moving her hips to the music.

_Slowly..._

_I want to breathe in your neck slowly_

_Let me whisper things in your ear_

_That you can remember when you're not with me…_

The tulle from her skirt moves around her like a ballerina’s, and she closes the eyes to let the lyrics sink in her ears.

_Slowly..._

_I want to undress you with kisses, slowly_

_Sign on the walls of your labyrinth_

_And make a manuscript of your body…_

The damn verses are more than Sandor can stand. He kills his drink in one gulp and heads with big strides to where Sansa is. He must be drunker than he’d calculated since the ground seems to move a little, though that doesn’t stop him from reaching his target in a couple of strides. Sansa shivers when she feels his hands on her bare shoulder pulling her back against his chest. He presses her to him, tightly, possessively even, and she rests her head on his shoulder and moves along with him, a grin on her lips, her butt brushing his cock unintentionally, or maybe on purpose. Sandor lowers his lips to her ear and repeats in low voice and just for her the verse he’s already heard on the radio so many times:

_I want to see your hair dancing,_

_I want to be your rhythm,_

_I want you to show to my mouth_

_Your favorite places…_

Sansa’s skin shivers and she bites her lower lip, but he doesn’t lose his embrace on her. Not now, not ever...

_Let me surpass your danger zones_

_Until I make you scream_

_And forget your name…_

“I love you. You know it, little bird, right? I love you...”

Sansa still keeps her eyes closed when she turns around and throws her arms around his neck - the space between them minimum, the wedding party already forgotten, the people around completely ignored. She smells of flowers and perfume, or maybe is a floral perfume, or just Sandor’s wild imagination, because he’s pretty sure he can’t think clearly right now.

“I know. Take me home, Sandor. Now.”

Sansa’s words are the order he’s been waiting for. He takes her by the hand and, without saying a word to anyone, they leave the party and drive to Invernalia as fast as they are able. Sansa’s skirt and hair are already a mess when they park, her shoes forgotten somewhere under the passenger seat, her purse thrown away as soon as they enter the house. Sandor takes her over to the counter of the kitchen, right where they ate each other with the eyes that same morning, among a cloud of silver tulle and kisses, with little time for preliminaries, both of them just wanting to feel each other deep inside, where the pleasure is, where only the other can be and claim what’s theirs. Sansa moans when less gently than he’d like, he penetrates her, and grabs his arms to hold herself, her legs straddling him, moving to the rhythm his hard thrusts are setting. They need each other desperately. They love each other desperately. That’s the only truth, the only thing that matters. They are made for each other, for this moment, for a lifetime, and nothing and no one will ever change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I'm sorry this chapter took so long, but hope it was worth the wait. Anyone has recognized the song they dance at the wedding? LOL If you haven't, you have been hiding under a rock these months, it's so popular! I like it anyway though (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJQP7kiw5Fk). The translation is mine xD it was fun!
> 
> Next chapter will finally be the epilogue to this story. I'll publish it soon after this one. It'll contain a little something I'm preparing to celebrate the end of the fic, you'll see... ;-)
> 
> If you liked this chapter, please tell me in the comments. And many thanks a lot for being there and for all the nice reviews you left during last chapters! :)
> 
> Chaouen


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love isn’t always fireworks, she realizes. Sometimes it comes softly, like the tide that claims the sand little by little until it covers the whole beach.

 

                                                                       

**AUGUST**

Sansa fans herself with some papers for the thousandth time that day. It’s so hot in Invernalia in summer! It must be 38ºC at least in the streets and, although the stone of the house manages to keep some of the heat outside her office, it isn’t enough to concentrate properly. In addition, her dress is stuck to her body because the air conditioner that Sandor installed at the beginning of the season isn’t working properly. She has called him a couple of times already, but hasn’t been able to contact him yet. Fortunately temperatures drop at night, so it’s a matter of time, waiting to be fresh again.

Sansa tries to focus again on what she was doing, but it’s hard. She needs a vacation desperately! She can’t remember when she took more than a couple of days off - probably last September when she came back to Invernalia. Things have gone pretty well at the Stark Office and Sansa can’t complain, but still.... As much as she likes what she’s doing, she feels she needs a rest from paperwork, laptops and calls. Sansa daydreams for a while about a hotel next to the beach just for her and Sandor… _that would be simply perfect…._ until a phone call breaks the reverie and takes her back to the harsh reality. _OK, it’s Friday already, just hold on a little longer, Sansa Stark..._

She answers some emails, checks her agenda for the next week, finishes writing a contract for Invernalia’s school principal, and remembers that she needs to start the washing machine when she gets home if Sandor hasn’t done it yet. He manages well with the housework and they share every week what needs to be done. Living with him is easy. They hadn’t needed an adaptation period or anything; the coexistence between them has flown naturally, as if their daily routine was already established and it was only a matter of time to make it work. Sansa loves her new life, their home, her office, her work, his mood, their friends, their trips to the city to go shopping and visit Randa… it’s nothing special really, but it’s the life she never knew she needed. She has come to realize that happiness is simply that; the soft run of life next to the person you love.  

The sound of a horn in the street takes Sansa out of her thoughts and makes her jump in her chair. She goes out to the balcony to see who is making such noise at that hour of the day, only to see Sandor’s van parked in front of the house. In that moment another image comes inevitably to her mind. Seven years ago, he was waiting in front of her house under the rain without saying a word, just waiting. For her. For something to happen. They had barely exchanged a few words back then, and she wasn’t even able to look him in the eye, as terrifying as the guy had seemed to her. However, much time has passed since those days, and so many things have changed. Now Sandor’s presence is synonymous with calm and comfort, and there is nothing she enjoys as much as meeting him at the end of a working day.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were working!”

“I came to pick you up!” Sandor tells her from below. “Come on, turn off your laptop and come down, we’re leaving!”

“Leaving? Where?”

“On vacation. It’s time already that we take some days off, little bird.  Hurry up!”

Sansa rushes inside, turns off the laptop, straightens up the table and runs downstairs until she stops against Sandor’s chest and he buries her in his arms.

“Come on, we have to go,” he urges. “We have to arrive before nightfall.”

“But I don’t even have my bag ready!” she protests. “I can’t leave with only what I’m wearing…”

“I packed it for you, don’t worry, though you must trust what I chose.”

Sansa rolls her eyes and giggles, secretly delighted with all that’s happening. “You are crazy, Sandor Clegane...”

“Probably… Now, let’s go.”

Sansa gets into the car and he steps on the accelerator out of the village, until Invernalia is just a little point behind them. She notices Sandor has taken the northern road, the one that goes in the opposite direction from the city and though she’s pretty curious about where they are going, doesn’t want to ask so as not to spoil the surprise. The journey is nice and the hours pass by quickly among small chat, music on the radio, and even a stop to eat something at a service area. It definitely looks like their holidays have finally begun. These are their _first_ holidays together and how well that sounds!

It’s not dark yet when they arrive at a village on the coast. Sansa notices in advance the smell of the sea on the air, its salty essence already filling the car as they approach the shore. The village isn’t very big, but it’s nice; with plenty of terraces and even a fishing port. She didn’t know the place from before although Sandor has kept an enigmatic grin since they passed in front of the first houses some minutes ago.

“I’ve booked a room in a hotel next to the promenade,” Sandor finally tells her. “It looked nice on the web, so I think you’ll like it. But first, I want you to show you something,”

He turns the wheel and they head through a small street that leads them out of the downtown. Sandor drives along the shore for a couple of kilometers until they stop next to a little beach, far from any houses. The beach is quiet and only the murmur of the water against the sand and a distant seagull are heard.

“Here is where I ended up the first time I left Invernalia, that day it was raining and you still hadn’t left to live in the city, remember?”

Sansa lets Sandor’s explanation slowly sink in her mind. _So it was here where he came after he waited for me… this is the place he told me about, the first time he saw the sea, the first time he felt free… The first time of the rest of his life…_

“Come on.” Sandor takes off her shoes, takes her hand and steps on the sand. She follows his lead and they walk for a while along the shore - Sandor’s arm over her shoulders, Sansa’s arm around his waist - while the sea wets their feet and the sea breeze entangles her hair. That’s their first time together at the beach and they both relish that moment. After a while Sandor takes a pack of beers from the trunk of the car and they sit together to drink and watch how the sun sets slowly on the horizon. A proper beautiful sunset for their first summer together of all that are to come.

\-----

Sandor sips his beer quietly, his gaze fixed on the big red and yellow ball that’s disappearing far away beyond the sea. Sansa is resting her head on his right shoulder, enjoying the sunset with him. It’s a peaceful and simple moment, though Sandor can’t help but feel a heaviness on his chest. He hasn’t come back here since almost seven years ago, and too many memories of this beach and what it represents crowd his head now. That day he ran from Invernalia without a fixed course and his life took a turn for the first time. It had taken him 28 years and too many bad things in his life to find the courage to break the chains that tied him to the Lannisters’ village and take the reigns of his own life. It all began under Sansa Stark’s balcony, under the rain and under the unknown madness that overtook him that evening; and it ended the next day, swimming naked on that same sea. After those first months of freedom, he had lived an ordinary quiet life for the next several years, though it had been just that, simply being ordinary, staying alive.

However, a year ago, once again, his life took a new turn. All that he had been building up for so long, his so-called life, shattered to pieces the same day Ned Stark’s daughter came back to Invernalia. Her sole presence in the village for a few days would have been enough to put his whole world upside down. So what happened next, what has being happening during all the months they’ve been together… hells, sometimes it just feels like it’s too much to take for his own mental health. Some days he wakes up and sees her sleeping by his side, watches her belongings spread over what used to be just his house, sees her smile, feels her kisses and her endless love... and thinks how it’s possible that his poor heart can’t stand so much happiness, so little used to it as it was. Shouldn’t he die from a heart attack? Is he really worthy of all the good things life has granted him lately? And the most import question of all, is he worthy enough to keep them, to keep her? Or does the mere thought make him selfish and possessive? Whatever it was, Sandor can’t help but feel that he doesn’t want it to end. Not now, not ever.

“It all began here,” he begins telling Sansa. “In this same place.”

“It’s beautiful, Sandor, thank you for sharing it with me.” She’s all blue eyes and love spreading from every pore of her pretty face, and Sandor wonders for the thousandth time what she sees in him that nobody else does; what unknown part of him makes him worthy of such devotion.  

“My life had been shit until then,” he manages to go on. “Not that it was much better after, but at least it was just my own. Nobody’s dog.”

Sansa takes his hand and presses it gently in acknowledgement. Sandor feels his fingers tickle and has to close his fist so she doesn’t notice. The moment is too important to get distracted.

“When you came back to Invernalia, I hated you, you know? Sansa Stark… you were all the things I never had, all the pretty things that were and would ever be out of my reach. I knew you hadn’t had an easy life; first Joffrey, then running away from the village, the death of your parents… However, when I first met you again, at Brienne’s, none of that mattered. I hated you anyway. You being around reminded me that I used to be a prick, just a brute without a purpose in life.  Don’t mind me, I used to hate almost everybody back then.”

“Well, those first days I hated you too!” Sansa giggles and waves a hand as if to take away the issue. “You didn’t make things easy for me, but somehow, we managed to work it out…”

“I have never made things easy for anybody, I guess…” Sandor stops then to take a breath; speaking his open heart is something he’s still getting used to. “Anyway, when you came back, my life changed, and it hasn’t stopped changing since then; always surprising me, always better… and I don’t want this to end.”

Sansa smiles, kindly, muttering a _me neither_ between her teeth.

“Here is where my life changed for the first time, and where I want it to take a new turn.” Sandor turns to look at her, so intently he thinks he’s going to burn her under his gaze. “Sansa, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Listen... I don’t like churches, priests or vows, you know I don’t even like big parties, but I’d go through all of it if you agree to marry me.”

Sansa blinks, shocked or scared, who knows, then opens her lips; though no sound comes out of her mouth.

“I-I don’t have a ring or anything… I’m sorry… ” he babbles, excusing himself. “I’m so bad with those things…I couldn’t decide which to choose so…”

“It’s okay, Sandor, I also want to spend the rest of my life next to you.” She is finally smiling, and her eyes shine on the verge of what looks like tears of happiness. “I’d love to marry you, with or without a ring, without a party, without a church, here if needed.”

He releases his breath as she throws her arms around his neck and they kiss kiss kiss... as if it was the first hiss ever between a man a woman on the whole earth and they were the first two humans to ever fall in love.

Sansa makes a toast with Sandor with the last beer and looks at the moon already high in the sky. During the few last months, her life has finally found its way, turning out that that way lead to Invernalia again; to where everything began. It was necessary to confront her past and recover from its wounds to be able to look at the future with fresh eyes. It hasn’t been easy, but love isn’t always fireworks, she realizes. Sometimes it comes softly, like that tide that claims the sand little by little until it covers the whole beach. And now that it’s here, it’s time to enjoy of the rest of her life next to the man she loves and who loves her back.

“Come on!” she commands, rising from the sand as she takes of her t-shirt. “Time for a bath.”

Sandor stands up quickly and follows her until, completely naked, they run laughing to the sea and throw themselves into the water. Sansa is already a little tipsy on emotions, beer and happiness but _hells_ , she wouldn't change this to be anywhere else in the world. As she dives into the dark water holding Sandor’s hand, in the back of her mind flies to the lyrics of a song that she hasn’t heard for so long…

 

_I never made promises lightly and there have been some that I've broken_

_But I swear in the days still left we'll walk in fields of gold_

_We'll walk in fields of gold._

  


**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AUTHOR'S NOTES**
> 
> Well, after so long I hope this ending hasn’t disappointed you. This was always meant to be a story about how our two protagonists make peace with their past and heal from its wounds so they are able to face their future and find their place in the world. Now that both Sansa and Sandor have gone through this process, it’s time to let them continue with their lives on their own. 
> 
> **What’s next**
> 
> I guess some of you would like to read more about their life together. I always wanted to end the story at this point however, it’s my headcanon that they get married at Invernalia. It’s a simple ceremony with just a few guests (not like Beric and Jeyne’s), and all of Sansa’s family attends it. Sansa’s business keeps growing in clients, and she finally hires another person to help her. Also, that same year Pod moves to the city to live with Randa, because she’s been promoted at Tyrell’s & Associates, though they keep visiting Invernalia from time to time. Jaime and Brienne never get married, though she gets pregnant, what makes Sansa and Sandor kind of uncle and aunt of their baby. Also, Brienne’s B&B increases their guests thanks to Randa’s recommendation among her multiple groups of friends (LOL)
> 
> After finishing Fields, I think I don't have the strength to write another multi chapter fic again. Writing in English isn’t easy for me, and this kind of stories take a lot of my spare time if I want to make a decent job. That’s why for the rest of this year I’m going to try to put all this effort in writing my own original story. I have some ideas I need to take out of my head and it’s now or never! However, I’d like to keep writing short Sansan stories and ficlets for [“Northern Chronicles”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2002737/chapters/4339584) so I won’t leave this fandom completely.
> 
> **Playlist**
> 
> The music has been a very important part of this story, so [here you have the playlist](http://chaouenmadrid.tumblr.com/post/162830330949/these-are-the-songs-that-have-inspired-this-story) for this story (mostly Spanish songs): 
> 
>  
> 
> **The book**
> 
> To put the finishing touch to this story, I have a little surprise. I’ve turned this fic into a book, a  _ real physical _ book, as a memory for this long journey together. 
> 
> [This is how it looks like.](http://www.blurb.com/books/8033615-fields-of-gold)
> 
> [Booktrailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgojIXfazWQ).
> 
> [You can get a copy of Fields of Gold on BLURB.COM in this link](http://www.blurb.com/b/8033615-fields-of-gold). 
> 
> You have to chose the cover you like, your currency and Blurb will send it right to your house.  I’ve done this just for fun, _I don’t earn anything from it._ The web charges you the printing and shipping costs it considers depending on the currency, the taxes and the shipping costs to the country you’re buying from.  I’ve prepared this book with a lot of love; hope you like it too!
> 
>  
> 
> **Acknowledgements**
> 
> I want to thank specially my friend and beta  **Kitamere** , whose enthusiasm, support and dedication to this fic have been a great part of my motivation to write it. Kit, it has been a pleasure to do this journey next to you and you have a great deal to do with Field’s universe. I wish one day I can show you some of the places that inspired Invernalia and we can drink and eat a lot, and see the suflowers together as Sansa and Sandor do in this story ;-)
> 
> **Thank you so much** **to all of you**  who have joined me during this time and that even waited for me after my one year hiatus. Thanks for all the love and endless support for this story, for your always nice and respectful comments, kudos, reblogs and support on tumblr. I’ll never get tired of saying that the **Sansan Fandom** is full of amazing people and I’m very proud to be a part of it!! :)
> 
>  
> 
> See you in another story!
> 
>  
> 
> ~ Chaouen.


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